Kodachi's Story
by Kitten1
Summary: AU: The strange nature of prophesy. Hints into the future of such a dramatic war? The story continues, despite its best efforts not to.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, when you look in a mirror, you see yourself. These times, when you look and see yourself, you see exactly what you wanted. But you gotta think about these things. Sometimes, when you look in these mirrors, and you don't see what you wanna see, it makes you unhappy. It's like you knew what you wanted to be there before you looked, but instead you're seeing what's really there. You don't see that damn smiling stupid face staring back at you, like nothing's ever happened and nothing ever will. Or maybe you do. Damn that face either way. Sometimes, though, you don't see it, and you see something else, something you don't wanna see. But it's there and it stares back at you, it, and no matter what it's there. And it's not you, it's not the reflection of yourself that a mirror usually spits back at you like some rotten insult from an angry orphan, it's a reflection of something else. A reflection of the parts of yourself that make you whole, make you the person you are. And sometimes... sometimes, when you stare into this mirror and stare past your reflection at the face behind the face, you see a part of you that could have been, the part that's hidden, the part that makes you hold on to yourself even tighter, because then, when you stare past yourself and into the parts farthest away from you, you see how horrible you could really be.  
  
I don't like mirrors much.  
  
-Duo Maxwell  
  
  
  
With a look of distaste on his face, the tall, blonde haired man surveyed his surroundings. He stood on a neat, well cared for river boat, facing a lush, green forest. He could see, or thought he could see, the shape of a large house vaguely between the forest trees. He stepped lightly from the boat to the shore and kept a critical eye on the forest. He heard his clumsier guards stepping noisily from the boat and his glowering expression deepened. He turned and snapped at them to hurry up. Sometimes, just sometimes, he wondered why he was sent on these missions. King and country, he reminded himself, and tucked his black walking stick under his arm. Sighing he realized that he had not prepared to go out. He turned back to the boat and whistled. His guards seemed surprised, and clumsily began to apologize for not holding it themselves.   
  
"Shut up..." he muttered and tossed the stick to a servant emerging from the boat's cabin.   
  
Quickly, he stripped his scarlet jacket of most of the gold trimmings and fancy lining. He snarled scornfully at a guard, who rushed to his side to take off his boots. The servant threw down rough, well worn leather boots to replace his shined black ones, and he quickly pulled them on. There was nothing he could do about his other garments at the moment, so he left them as they were. It wasn't as if even the most dense of the peasant folk would fail to notice his nobility.   
  
He had been told as his life, as a little boy, to a grown man. 'Your eyes, Milliardo, your fine face, your hair...no one would mistake you for anything less than what you are.'   
  
For a moment, his face cleared of the displeased frown and haughty disdain it usually held. He shook himself and stood up straight, shrugging away the memory.   
  
He turned to his guard, "Go ahead and keep out of sight. We've already scouted; they should be out today. I want you to watch and see what you can find."   
  
The guard nodded and started away. Before the guard had gotten even a few feet away, the nobleman remembered the dull look on his face. He reached out and grabbed the guard roughly, pulling him back.   
  
"And remember what we're looking for. There are high standards to be watched for. I will not be the one to cover for your mistakes."   
  
Now the guard nodded, the fearful look on his face a good enough confirmation of his understanding. He snarled. It wasn't enough that he had to wander among the uneducated, he had to have idiots to watch over while he did it.   
  
He sighed and shut his eyes, 'No one, Milliardo...no one...'   
  
Again he snapped from his memories. It was not the time for remembering, it was the time for duty.  
_________  
  
  
  
  
Duo ran through the woods, listening to the shouting the laughter behind him. It was wash day, and it was a good thing. For all the work he'd done in the week, he figured there was at least two layers of dirt and grime on him. He saw some of the others run ahead of him and felt the almost inescapable mischievous grin spread across his face. He gripped his bundle of clothes more tightly and turned back to the troupe behind him.   
  
He took a deep breath, "Come on you Laggards! Try and keep up!"   
  
There were bursts of laughter as his voice reached the troupe of traveling orphans. He saw some of the more adventurous start to run his way and cracked a grin that would've shamed Hermes. He raised his voice like a wild thing and ran through the brush and branches towards the Forest Lake. The other orphans would never keep up. None were fast enough. They saw the black shadow disappear into the forest, a chestnut tail bobbing behind it.   
________  
  
  
"I see you have a good...selection, as it were, at this place, my Lady."   
  
"Yes, my Lord, many have left their children for us to care for."   
  
Madame Yourna quickly nodded to the noble, trying not to stare. He smiled a patient smile to her. Her eyes widened and she quickly looked down, wringing her hands,   
  
"I suppose, it is well known we take good care of them."   
  
He waited a practiced moment, then nodded to her, maintaining his smile. Quickly, she turned and began to pull out the papers from her desk that had the names of all her children on them. The two were enclosed in a small, wooden office. He frowned to himself as he ran his fingers over the edge of the wooden chair in front of him. Madame Yourna had told him the children had made it, and so many of the other things in the office, for her a long time ago. Everything seemed to be made of wood, he thought, minutely disgusted, event he woman's ratty brown shawl. It was sensible, though, he thought, since the orphanage was placed in the middle of a forest. He tried to maintain his smile for the sake of the woman. She was stacking and straightening the list of names into a neat pile. Her time-worn shawl seemed to match the office enough to make her blend in. Briefly, he wondered why she even bothered working here. She was not old enough to have given up on raising her own children, and, if she took a second to straighten herself up, she would be an attractive bride for a peasant townsman. She straightened up and looked up at him, a bright smile on his face. He quickly resumed his own smile, and wondered what she would look like in green, rather than brown.   
  
"Here you are, my lord, the list of names of my children." She bowed her head as he took them from her graciously.   
  
"I will see."   
  
She stepped away and kept her face down, staring at him through her eyelashes like a bashful child. She was the picture of contained excitement. It wasn't often that anyone came interested in her children, and it was even less often that one had the chance to be adopted by a noble. She looked up again. She noticed that he was tall, and he dressed in a scarlet red that screamed of wealth, but the rest of his clothing was more simple, even travel worn. She tried to hold in her hope that he would be a kind parent to on of the children. He looked enough like it, certainly. He had sleek, intensely blonde hair that ran down his back, and she could envision the icy color of his eyes...   
  
"Lady," he said shortly.   
  
She broke from her revery and stepped forward, "Yes, My Lord?"   
  
He was looking over the lists with a critical eye, and his smile was gone, but she hardly noticed.   
  
"I think I should like to see them before I choose."   
  
"Yes My Lord," she bowed, but suddenly frowned, remembering where the children were. "I-I'm sorry, my Lord, I remember now that they have all gone to lake to wash."   
  
She was crestfallen, what if chose to leave? What if he didn't take one of the children with him? Had she ruined their chance? "But, my Lord, if you'll be patient, I'm, I'm sure that they'll be back at any moment..."   
  
He looked into her desperate face and nodded, "I will wait until they return then, my Lady."   
  
He finally managed another smile, and watched her eyes begin to sparkle with delight.He turned to his guard and whispered once she had turned her back. The guard nodded,   
  
"Done already, my Lord."  
___________  
  
  
The fastest of the troupe reached the lake first. Duo heard the screams and laughs as some jumped straight into the chill water of lake. He laughs as one of his friends tried to bypass him,   
  
"Duo! Come on! I'll bet I'll make a bigger splash than you!"   
  
Duo laughed at the larger boy and tackled him, taking him straight to the dirt. The other boy was bigger, but Duo was faster. He sprang up and laughed, and the boy tackled him back, "Come on, you're not even trying!"   
  
Duo grinned as the boy held him, pinned to the ground, "Oh yeah?"   
  
He obviously heard the cocky tone in Duo's voice, because his face fell almost immediately. His opponent off guard, Duo pulled his foot up and put it on the other boy's chest. With a mighty heave he flipped him over backwards, and the boy somersaulted into the Lake. He heard the laughter from some of the watching children. One of them, a girl with black hair, shouted, "Hey Duo! Wanna play chicken in the lake? I'll bet you can't pull those same tricks!"   
  
Duo grinned and brushed himself off, "Naw, I'm gonna clean up."   
  
She shouted something else by way of a mocking reply to him, but Duo had turned away. More of the kids were arriving, and he could hear the splashes as they were, pushed, pulled, and dumped into the cool waters. He laughed to himself, and held his bundle of clothes over his shoulder. His arms were tired still. He felt someone touch his arm and turned quickly.   
  
"Rohan!"   
  
"Duo. Aren't you gonna come to the lake?"   
  
Duo shrugged, "I've got dirt in places I can't imagine. I'm gonna go to the falls."   
  
Rohan nodded. He stayed a few feet away, as if afraid that Duo would shout at him. Rohan had always been shy and withdrawn. It was no wonder, Duo thought to himself, he had been abandoned twice and beat up more times than he could count.   
Rohan nodded again, "Fine then, I'll make sure it's clear."   
  
Rohan winked and disappeared, a definite trait from Duo. Duo laughed to himself. Rohan may have had a tough time, but all it did was make him tougher. Not a single one of the orphans ever dared cross him, much like Duo himself. He slung his bundle of clothes back over his shoulder and continued to walk.   
  
  
He could hear the others splashing and playing in the lake as he ran up the rock to the little waterfall. He checked to make sure no one was already here before he emerged. He watched the water fall gently from the jagged rocks above, to the smooth rocks below and smiled.   
  
"C'mon, Duo! You stink!."   
  
"Yeah, hurry up already!"   
  
He remembered his friends' comments and grinned. They would stink too if they had been made to work this week. He threw off his clothes and ran to waterfall. The water was cold, more frigid than the lake, and it fell slowly. He shivered and started to wash. None of his friends had to work yet, they were not old enough, but Duo... He was getting older. In another year or so he would be released, for better or worse, to make his own place in the world. No one had ever adopted him. He sighed and scrubbed his face. Working in horse dung was not his idea of fun. He shivered again, but this time it wasn't from the cold of the water. He couldn't help but look around for a moment. He shrugged and kept scrubbing.   
  
  
The shiver was well judged, for someone was watching them, all of them, with careful, meticulous, judgement.   
__________  
  
  
Duo and the others headed back to the orphanage through the yard. One of Duo's favorite attendants fussed over them, "Sakes! I wonder if you don't come back dirtier than when you go!"   
  
Duo laughed and pushed at one of his friends, "she's talking about you, eh?"   
  
The smaller child revealed a semi-toothless frin and pushed back. Few of them noticed the man walking with Madame Yourna out to the yard. The Nobleman looked over the papers again and nodded to Madame Yourna, "Aye, My Lord, they've come back."   
  
He looked up and nodded. The children were all playing, roughhousing mostly, while the caretakers fussed over them. He immediately filtered out those that were too young on his own. That seemed to leave few for the choice. They stopped as he surveyed. Quietly, a guard came up behind him and interrupted, whispering something in his ear. He bent to listen, and the guard pointed. He nodded and rested his hand over his mouth.   
  
"My Lady," he spoke suddenly.   
  
She nodded, "Yes, My Lord?"   
  
He pointed, "What is his name?"   
  
The woman looked, and then squinted. She finally took a step forward and nodded, "I know every child here, and that one is...Duo Maxwell." She smiled, obviously reliving some pleasantly amusing memory. The noble's cold blue eyes followed him perfectly.   
  
He nodded, "He will do."  
  
  
________________  
  
"Heero!"   
  
Heero Yuy looked down at the book in his lap, startled. He looked up to see if whoever had called his name was already in the great library. He saw no one.   
  
"Heero!"   
  
He heard them call again. He recognized the voice. Quickly, he slapped the book shut and tried to think of what to do with it. It was a novel, pure fantasy, and he wasn't supposed to be reading it. He couldn't think of what to do, and if Lady Po found out he was...   
  
"Heero."   
  
She stared down at him. Her tone was condescending, and he felt his face grow hot, not for the first time. He realized he was already standing as she started to walk over.   
  
"Heero Yuy, what are you doing in here? You heard me call?"   
  
She had the irritating habit of making statements into questions. He failed to come up with a proper response, so he simply kept his face down. It was embarrassing for a man to blush, but Heero could never cotrol himself properly for as long as he could remember. She made a sympathetic noise in her throat and straightened his hair with uncanny motherliness. What did it matter about motherliness anyway? He never had a mother.  
  
"Come now, you're needed downstairs."   
  
He nodded and managed to mumble an affirmative response. She clucked and turned. He finally raised his face to watch her go and remembered the book in his hand. His heart quickened. Why hadn't she said anything about it? Did she even notice he had a book? Didn't she see...   
With a start he realized that she had most definitely not seen. The book was clasped in his hands behind his back, and automatic gesture when he stood to greet people. She hadn't even noticed he held it anymore than he had noticed the gesture of hiding it. He felt himself shiver and carefully, without taking it from behind his back, he dropped it on one of the library shelves. He didn't like the idea of hiding things.  
  
___________  
  
In the last part of the kingdom, it was raining. The door to the inn pushed open, seemingly of it's own accord. Bedraggled and wet, a boy stumbled inside, dragging with him another. The innkeeper could not see if it was another boy or a girl. The tattered boy struggled to catch his breath as cold drops of water fell from his hair to a quickly forming puddle beneath him.   
  
"Please sir, do you have a room?"   
  
The innkeeper frowned, and relied on his judgement, "No. I have no room to let."   
  
The boy seemed unsurprised, if disappointed, by his response.   
  
"Please, then, sir, have you a blanket, or some food?"   
  
The innkeeper began to shake his head, but the boy turned away, alerted by some unknown signal. The one he carried made no noise, but the boy quickly let him down and kicked the door shut behind him. He ran to the innkeeper's counter and looked up at him with desperation in his single visible eye.   
  
"Please, sir, I beg of you, anything will do, he is sick, and I cannot take him farther into the wood in the rain. I will do anything."   
  
The innkeeper grumbled, fumbling for some way to foist them off. He began to mumble an excuse looking towards the ceiling rather than to the soaked body, laying breathless on the ground.   
  
The traveler interrupted before he began, "Please! I will work!"   
  
The innkeeper grunted, "What can you do?"   
  
A look of settled determination was on the boy's face now,   
  
"Anything."   
  
His excuses running out, the innkeeper began to tell them to leave. He tried to look at the ragged boy's face. As the thundering outside ceased, and the great, clanging drops of rain created a din inside the tiny inn; he could hear the heavy, desperate breaths coming from the figure on the floor with strangled effort. He risked a glance at the lumped form on his floor. Other than muddied and soaked clothing and cloth, he could see nothing of the figure except for the labored rising and falling of its chest. He looked back at the boy, who knew he had won.  
  
  
  
-----------   
End of Part one  
  
-----------  
  
Oi! What's this all about! I thought I had fixed this...*sigh* oh well...it's fixed now. Maybe that's why it was so confusing...that and the typos *sheepish grin*. Anyway, I hope this is a little better...maybe I get some reviews for it *grin* Thanks for stopping by, spirits!  
  
Kitten 


	2. Chapter 2

"What am I doing here?"   
  
"You're getting on the boat."   
  
Duo watched the noble breeze past him and step lightly onto the river boat that waited by the shore, precariously held in its position by the meager poles of two servants. He sighed. So far none of his questions had been answered. The entire walk had been filled with such short conversation and meaningless answers. Well, that had only left him with occupying himself by keeping company with the guards. Coincidentally they didn't seem to like him much either.   
  
"Little brat..."   
  
he heard one of the guards whisper, clearly for him to hear. He wanted to turn and say something back, but the guard grabbed his arm and kept him forward. He could only glance back and scowl. The noble stood on the boat looking down at them, and Duo couldn't help but feel the wretched aura of superiority about him. It made him want to puke. He frowned but got on the boat, nearly tripping as the guard gave him a 'friendly' shove forward. He pulled himself up and dusted himself off; it would do him no good to say anything, he had gathered as much from the walk to the river. The nobleman seemed far to absorbed to give anything but passing notice to his new charge and company. What kind of adoption was this anyway? He heard the guards clamor aboard and turned around, hoping at least one would fall in. They somehow managed to get aboard without maiming anyone and seriously dampened Duo's mood. The nobleman, stnading placidly to the side of the pole man, suddenly snatched the jerk-guard's arm and pulled him up,   
  
"If any here will do the disciplining of anyone, it will be me, do you understand? Or do you forget who we are here for?"   
  
Duo watched the guard cower and nod quickly, shaking in his plated armor. The noble let him go with enough of a shove to make him step back and gave the signal for the pole men to push off. Duo stared at the aloof nobleman as he walked away and barely kept him comments in. He had moved fast, very fast, almost as fast as some of the kids at the orphanage. Duo smirked, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.  
  
—___________________________  
  
"What the hell is going on here?!"   
  
The feeble wooden table shook as Lucrezia Noin slammed her fist on it for the hundredth time. Counting the history of the table, and seeing the broken and replaced legs, it was probably nearer the millionth occasion of abuse for the bedraggled inanimate servant. The others in the room jumped at her fury. She spotted Heero in the doorway and immediately stood, trying not to smile.   
  
"Heero, I didn't see you there."   
  
He nodded. She cleared her throat and made her face grow hard again as she glared at her fellow captains,   
  
"It's about time I got some brains in this room. Come here, Yuy, and tell me what you think of this."   
  
She leaned over the map spread before them and the anguished legs creaked and wobbled under the table. Heero walked over before he gained the same view of her chest as the other captains. He looked over the map critically, and she moved out of the way for him. He could hear one of the captains whispering to another, but blocked them out as he reviewed the situation.   
  
He stood, "If you take their position here, and block this line, you can easily wipe out this faction."   
  
She peered over his shoulder. He could tell that she was proud of him, because her eyes started to sparkle. She quickly thought to blow a hole in his plan,   
  
"Yes, but—."   
  
"In order to keep our troops safe from the fire of the archers positioned here, you would have this unit, or a smaller company, take them out in advance to the final move."   
  
Her eyes narrowed and she knit her brows together as she contemplated the change in positions.   
  
"Yes, but then you've got a separated company, and a hole in your main lines."   
  
"Not if you make it night movement, and move them back before, or have a tactical retreat, or have them move ahead and join the forces here. Going through the wood, they would only encounter minimal trouble."   
  
"But then you'd have—."   
  
"A single tired company. Move them back out of the main lines, or simply allow them to take the place of reserves, and move up a single reserve company to take their place, ideally before you send them off the take out the archers."   
  
She stood back from the table a moment, her hand absentmindedly over her mouth. The other captains were watching with intense interest as she circled the map like a vulture, spying for weakness to prey upon. She leaned over the table again, facing Heero directly,   
  
"But, if you take this position, it would be a bloodbath of the enemy. If they retreated, they would need to retreat into the town area, and that would put the townspeople at risk."   
  
She looked up at him, hoping for reaction. She couldn't bear to stare into those cold blue eyes for too long. He watched her carefully.   
  
"Coup de main," he said to please her and pushed an imaginary unit in front of the town, "There is no town to retreat to."   
  
She stared at the imaginary formations. Much to the displeasure of her caviling eye, she found nothing to argue with. She stood and put her hand on her hip,   
  
"Well, at least somebody here can think."   
  
She smiled at Heero with those shining, excited eyes. She was proud of him again.   
  
She nodded, "Thank you, Yuy."   
  
He nodded to him and he nodded back, both of them disdaining the customary bows. He walked past her and headed out of the room just as she turned and smacked the captain on her right,   
  
"And it'd do you better to stop staring a at my breasts you nimrod! If you paid more attention to the tactics instead of anatomy maybe these little councils would be worth my time!"   
  
He could hear the pitiful complaints as she continued to abuse her underlings. He would have almost, if he could, smiled to himself.  
  
  
—_______________________  
  
Duo walked around on the river boat, bored out of his skull. For sure, it was a nice boat, and he'd never been this far down the river, but it was hardly fair to keep an active, growing boy from running and jumping around like he usually did. Actually, Duo thought to himself, he missed all the other kids more than anything. It was exciting to be away, but he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd be going back, like this was another work trip. He sighed and put his hands behind his head as he walked. Another few days, boys, and he'd be showing them where all the good hiding spots on the orphanage were again. With a sigh, he looked around to see if anyone else was watching. The guards were in the tall cabin like-shade, or shade-like cabin, or whatever the damn thing was, that rested on the front of the boat. Extravagant nobles, Duo though, it must be all decked out on the inside. He had brief visions of fruit bowls filled with oversized shiny red apples and scarlet satin curtains that matched the nobleman's vest and champagne bottles sitting in little tins by piled cushions and serving girls. God knows it was decorated enough on the outside. He wondered if they even tried to keep inconspicuous. The noble who'd adopted him no doubt couldn't keep inconspicuous if he tried. Duo remembered watching Lady Yourna motion him over, unable to control her excitement.  
  
"Oh, Duo, I've got such good news for you! Come here!"   
  
She'd motioned him over. Duo had known something was up the moment he'd caught sight of the noble. He hadn't taken his eyes off him as she put her arm around his shoulders and pushed him forward. Duo remembered the sinking in his stomach.  
  
"Duo, this man would like to take you with him."   
  
She had stared at him, waiting for his inevitable elation and uncontrollable excitement. It hadn't come. Duo just stared up at the pale, snotty looking man in the red jacket that looked at him like a piece of meat.   
  
"Duo? Do you know what that means? I'm not lying! This man wants to adopt you! It's no more work weeks!"   
  
When she said that, Duo realized he'd have to let it kick in sooner or later.   
  
"Adoption, Duo," she'd whispered, her soft voice tickling his ear and her too worn hands holding his arms in what might have been a hug if she weren't so nervous of driving the dream away,   
  
"After all these years, a home..."   
  
Duo had a home. This was home. No where else. He didn't really want to go.   
  
"Miss Yourna..."   
  
Duo broke into a grin, "I can't believe it!"   
  
He still couldn't, not a chance. And he didn't want to.   
  
  
Duo sighed and scratched his ear before replacing his hands behind his head, staring at the sky. It wouldn't be all that bad. Yeah, right, just keep saying that. He shut his eyes and felt the breeze brush him gently. It lifted his bangs from his face and made him feel lighter, almost as if he were free, traveling with it, but the heavy braid down his back didn't move. It kept it's place, weighing him down. The braid; the tail. A shackle? He opened his eyes and jumped around the shade for the front of the boat. There was a few boxes for him to lean on, and a bright patch of sun ran right down the center, where the trees didn't block the sky's warmth. He sighed and eased himself down on the boxes, his hands behind his head. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.  
  
Keep telling yourself that.  
  
—_______________  
  
  
Smiling to himself was a practiced gesture. King Treize leaned back in his chair and did so now. Someone came in and started to talk on and on about something terribly boring. He pretended to listen and smiled to himself with great relish. He was expecting a package soon, that was certainly good news, and then Milliardo would be back as well. It got terribly boring without him around to complain to. No one else seemed to really listen to him. Whoever it was in front of him continued to babble endlessly. Shouldn't he stop sometime soon?   
  
"...and there, your Majesty, I believe..."   
  
Treize absentmindedly waved a gloved hand to him and rested his chin on his other hand. He was dreadfully tired.   
"I'm quite aware of your opinion, and so I will certainly take it into account. I am quite pleased with your performance."   
  
He couldn't think of anything else to babble, so he waved an indifferent dismissal. The man seemed happy enough as the guards led him out of the throne room. Oh well, it's not as if it mattered very much. If he had done anything stupid he would've been executed. It was ever so simple to care for things as a King. He indulged further in his private grin.   
"Excellent as usual, your Majesty..."   
  
oh God, his replacement advisor,   
  
"...however it might have been a trifle confusing if you hadn't complimented the man on his performance."   
  
Blah Blah Blah...more criticism from him. That wouldn't happen if Milliardo were there as usual. He seemed to screen out the stupid comments.   
  
"Oh, whatever for," Trieze snorted and waved a hand at him.   
  
The advisor frowned, "Well, he breeds cattle for the stock. I don't believe you've ever been directly effected by his performance. He was only here to evaluate the food shortage in his region."   
  
Trieze listened with as much patience as he had for the day. It was unfortunate he had wasted it on such a trivial thing.   
  
"Oh well." he muttered. He would have to remember to execute his advisor later. He really would've liked to have Milliardo back again. Then again, it wasn't as if he paid much attention to him either. He shifted in his chair and smiled to himself. He was probably just excited about his package's arrival.  
  
  
***   
  
If the advisor had known that Treize had the intention on telling someone else to execute him, he just might have decided that, since he was a dead man anyway, to mention that Treize was the cause for that region's food shortage in the first place, as well as the countless other problems the people had to report, and that through the countless speeches they had listened to today, it didn't seem as if Treize was even remorseful.   
—__________________  
  
  
Duo was still resting in the warmth of the sun when he heard footsteps next to him. It didn't take any wild leap of genius to guess that the tap of boots belonged to the noble. He squinted open on eye to confirm that the tall, uncompromising, man was sitting down beside him. Duo shrugged mentally; everyone had to relax sometime. The noble looked stiff, sitting there in his full outfit of stiff white breeches and his red coat. He looked up at the sky and sat quietly, though.   
  
Duo glanced at him and looked upward, "Pretty, isn't it?"   
  
The noble didn't glance at him, but nodded, "Yes, actually, it is."   
  
Duo shrugged, "Yeah."   
  
He leaned back on the boat and rested his hands behind his head. The noble sat beside him. Briefly, Duo wondered if he ever REALLY relaxed.   
  
"Where are we going, anyway?"   
  
The noble looked up at the sky, "To the castle, to see King Trieze."  
  
_______________________  
  
  
"Heero! I have wonderful news!"   
  
Lady Po ran into the library as Heero was reading again. He looked up at her, forgetting to stand.   
  
She smiled at him, "You are going to visit the castle, King Trieze wishes to see you!"   
  
Heero looked up at her, surprised more than anything else. For once, he didn't feel thoughts muddle in his head, but it didn't please him. He felt very distinctly a bad feeling.   
  
"The King?"   
  
Lady Po nodded to him, clasping her hands together. He sat very still. She continued to smile, "come, now, we have to get ready, you'll leave very soon."   
  
Wild thoughts began to march through his mind, creating the random chaos he was used to. He wanted to fight, why did he have to go to the castle. Why? Why?! Nobody would answer him. Heero stood and brushed himself off.   
  
"Heero! What is that you're reading?!"  
  
________________  
  
  
The traveling boy leaned on the counter of the inn. The innkeeper smiled to him, "Leaving already? It's a shame, we could use you here a few days longer."   
  
The boy nodded, "Thank you, sir, but I must be going. We've things to do in other places."   
  
The innkeeper managed not to frown as he looked at the boy's blonde haired, silent companion, standing patiently behind him. The silent one caught his look, and for a moment, he could see hurt reflecting in his placid blue eyes before the silent one cast his face down.   
  
The boy left a few coins on the counter, "Here."   
  
"It a sad thing to see you go. But tell me, where will you be headed so soon?"   
  
The traveler stood in front of his silent companion and seemed to look past the doors of inn to the road ahead of them, far in the distance.   
  
"To the castle, maybe. We will have to see. There is something we would like to witness..."   
  
The innkeeper shivered as he watched them go. The boy's gaze...like he knew of the end of their road before they reached it....   
____________  
  
ARGH! You people needn't fear, this story's formatting is getting on my nerves as much as yours, unfortunately, it's so piecemeal and oddly shaped that I have trouble understanding how long to make chapters. I'm trying to make sure I don't overload you, but int he process am chopping up a bunch of stuff...like it could be anymore chopped up. heh...Anyway, I could make these humongoid chapters, with many sub parts, but I'm counting on that 1. nobody's sincerely reading this for it's educational value, if at all, and 2. the bigger chapters would be just as frustrating as the small ones. I'm not certain. Anyway, it's being worked on.   
  
Formatting is fixed! oh ho ho! What do you think of that! Bwa-ha! Admittedly, maybe it's still unbearable, but at least it's maybe a little better. Anyway, enjoy on.  
  
Kitten 


	3. Chapter 3

"Make ready the war tents!"   
  
The blonde girl standing on a box in the middle of the small, frightened peasant town,   
  
"Take up your arms, bear under your burdens, and prepare for war!"   
  
A unit of her rebel troops were stationed among the crowd of ashen-faced villagers, and now they let out a resounding cheer, and took note of those who did not seem compliant. The villagers glanced at one another as she leapt down from the box and into the arms of a well dressed soldier. Their town had bourne up under drought and lack of supplies and support from King Treize, and now they were to bear under the threat of war too? They knew that Treize would have little pity for the rebels, and even less for those that housed them. Few of King Treize's soldiers bothered to stop to ask whether towns sympathized and gave refuge rebels or were taken over by them. The soldiers always came quickly though, too quickly for preparation. The crowds slowly began to disband, a dull, familiar lack of hope reflected in their faces. Two or three of the shops around her began to board their windows and doors.   
  
From the corner of her eye, the would-be rebel general caught a man taking the sign from over his shop door and setting out the familiar hexagonal death-boxes that frequented her battlefields. She smiled a savage smile of satisfaction and ordered the well dressed soldier forward. Walking along the street she could see more people gathering supplies like nails and scraps of wood to deliver to the burial carpenter. She wondered if he doubled as a priest like the last unfortunate town carpenter. Of course, maybe that was because she had killed that town's priest before the fight.   
  
She shrugged mentally, the thought making her laugh. Those King's soldiers' had been routed, fleeing like cowards, easily defeated. She expected it again. They knew nothing of tactics here on the outskirts of King Treize's kingdom. She ordered the soldier before her to stop and set her hands on her hips, standing squarely and examining the town around her.   
She had just recently entered a different duchy, and it showed in the cobblestone streets and abundant roads. The houses were of wood and stone, a mix of the abundant forests before them and empty plains behind. They were painted with bright colors and well kept as well, with whitewashed crossboards under the jutting eaves. It was all so very much like a fancy clock or music box town, she almost expected the people to stop on the hour and turn circles where they were, bowing in little jerks and twitches to each other, like the glittering music box she had once...   
  
She cut her features with a sharp frown and killed the thought like an unwanted runt. She narrowed her eyes as she stared hard at the neatly packed stones. This miniature kingdom would be no different from the rest. It would fall before like so many other things. Fall like a crumbling wall.   
  
Soldiers rushed past, fortifying and preparing the town for the assault. A few of her soldiers were rougher than necessary with the people that gathered in groups to watch, but it bothered her more that they were wearing down their fighting energy,   
  
"You!" She barked, pointing to the soldiers shoving a young man, "Stop that and find something worthy to do! Leave these people alone!"   
  
The soldiers cowered like caught animals and scattered away as soon as her command released them. At least they obeyed her. She sniffed and walked to the well dressed soldier, imposing herself in his arms with a smile twisted into something more like the mishappen son of what it had been for a breif unwatched moment. He took her gladly, or at least unresistingly, wrapping his strong, if cold, arms around her. The people stared at her, some with gratitude, some with suspicious, ignorant, ambivalence. She ignored them, and motioned to a few of her soldiers, making sure the crowd was well occupied before indulging in a satisfied, ferocious smile to her lover. She twisted her hand around his ponytail and tugged playfully.   
  
"We will win this one, no?"   
  
His face betrayed nothing, staying blank, and his deep dark eyes shimmered in the crisp sunlight. The sun always seemed brighter and more acute when she was going into battle, she mused, before pulling herself closer to him, and smiling at his lack of display. The town would bear them for a while. Long enough to win her battle, and then she would leave it to its own devices. She was liberating the people, not providing for them. Treize's tyranny would end, and who would matter after that.   
  
"Who, my beloved, who will matter after leave this town?"   
  
She voiced her opinion to him. She smiled her wicked, sinister smile as he again did not respond, surveying the crowd for any who were being to watchful of the display. She let him hold her up and indulged herself further.   
  
_____  
  
Wee! I formatted it...added paragraphs and what not such as pleases the people. I guess I hadn't done as much work ont his one as I thought. You like? *evil grin* I bet you still can't guess who they are! I do like this part..even if it is a little creepy...  
*shrug*  
Have fun!  
  
Kitten 


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, here goes, you know I've done something wrong when I put an author's note at the -beginning- of a piece. *sigh* give me a break, I figured that nobody would read it if it weren't formatted, and though I am terribly bad at it, I decided to give my best and try to format it myself. A friend of mine formatted chapter 1 already, but it didn't show up right. sorry guys. Expect me to try to format the first chapters myself as well. It's all going to be updated *smile*. alright, on to the story. Enjoy.  
Kitten  
_________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
  
  
Duo walked a little behind from the noble, Milliardo (having by sheer coincidence picked up his name), and eagerly surveyed the area around him. The boat had landed, and the soldiers seemed overly eager to be ahore, or at least, home again, he supposed. He hadn't caused THAT much trouble on the boat, at least, none that wasn't deserved. After all, you couldn't always trust the kharmic backlash to come soon enough for the proper learning effect that was supposed to happen. It was his duty as a representative of misfortune to grease the divine cogs of order; he merely assisted the great cosmic functions. Briefly, he smiled as he pondered Madame Yourna's deep regret of ever lending him to work at the monastary of the East.   
  
He did however, estimate that the guard's yearning was for home, rather than departure from his company. A home is no place to be away from. Somewhere, deep in the part of his heart that was still a child, Duo knew he hoped that his estimates were true.   
  
He gazed at the tapering forest and wide-spreading plains before him, and wondered where he could be going in such a desolate place. Surely there wasn't anything to eat out here! He hadn't seen more than a hare or falcon in more than a hundred yards. Certainly, he had been, as a very young child, in the towns on the edge of the forest, that lived away from the shelter the trees provided, but not even they would live this far. His attention roamed nontheless. He couldn't suppress his implacable curiosity. When he could hold the questions in no longer, he caught up with Milliardo.   
  
"What's this place anyway? Where are we going now?"   
  
"We're going straight to the castle. You're...Your delivery is awaited."   
  
Milliardo shifted, loosing his demeanor for a single moment and casting him a sidelong glance, but Duo hardly noticed what Milliardo said past the 'straight to the castle' bit. Milliardo had said as much before. He peered around curiously. The place was entrancing. The forest had been cut away in great swaths to form a road, and a pleasant surrounding grass area. He'd never seen something like that before, and tell tale tree stumps still fixed in the ground told him that the change to grass had been fairly recent. He couldn't imagine living in such open spaces all the time, but then, he had never traveled far from the orphanage and it's protective forests.   
  
He occupied himself by walking backwards for a while to survey the surroundings even better; Milliardo had long ago given up keeping him in line. The noble took his energy to be a good sign, and one among few. Duo jogged backwards until the stoic nobleman entered his view of the path behind him. Milliardo barely cast him a glance. Duo didn't let it bother him.   
  
"So, what's going to be happening at this castle? And where is it anyway? What's it look like?"   
  
Keeping his face clear, Milliardo elegantly raised a gloved hand and pointed, seeming to enjoy the gesture. Duo turned, and almost stumbled. He felt his braid thump him reassuringly in the back like a kindly guardian as he faltered to a halt. The unimpressed noble and guards continued to walk forward as Duo stared.   
  
The castle was...huge.   
  
Its great white walls rose into the sky like great markers of humanity. He kept his gaze on the walls and walked forward, catching up to the noble.   
  
"The castle," Milliardo began, before Duo could form any other questions, "is a structure built long before the time of King Treize. It has since been expanded."   
  
Duo didn't have to wonder who had expanded it. He wasn't used to being impressed, but he wasn't sure exactly that's what was happening to him. Somehow, he felt uneasy, deep in his stomach; farther than that. It was an uneasiness deep in his soul. He shut his jaw and kept walking, facing more forward. Milliardo was only barely pleased by the more subdued tone in the youth. His high spirit and open-mouthed nature would not help him with King Treize. Milliardo felt himself sigh and slump inwardly, though he knew it would press anyone's powers of observation to notice it in his actual posture. He was glad this trip was over. This was dirty business, and he wished no part of it. He wished deeply that Treize would reconsider his actions. Of course, in order to reconsider, one would have to consider them in the first place. Milliardo quieted himself; such thoughts were not his own and would get him nowhere. He pushed any further thoughts of Treize from his mind, but found his burden remained. If he did not think of Treize, then all that left to possess his mind was the boy, Duo, and his memories. Even Treize was a better alternative than those.  
  
Duo kept his hands behind his back, the way Madame Yourna had taught he and the other kids at the house a long time ago. He could feel his braid swish gently in and out of his grasp like a steady pendulum, snapping his fingers closed just moments to late to catch it for fun. He tilted his chin up so that it looked as if he were staring into the sky, but he kept his eyes on the noble, Milliardo. He was no great psychic, and as it was he knew he didn't care much about the noble, but it dug at him to see a man so sad hide it behind a masked face.   
  
_______  
  
  
Heero watched sadly as Lady Po put the last small bag on the horses for their trip. Lady Noin, disdaining customary court apparel, stood in her soldier's tails before him, along with a few servants and his old nurse. She smiled at him, and he wished for once he could afford to smile back, but Lady Po turned her attention back to him.   
  
"Come now, Heero, we must go."   
  
He nodded and received a hug from his old nurse. She cried, certain that he was finally getting the break into the court that he deserved, and continued to make noise until he managed to make a reassuring sound to her. He was attached to her, for certain, she had cared for him as a child, but he couldn't stand the display. Noin moved up quickly and smiled at him, her military posture betraying no want to hinder him.   
  
"Well, Yuy, looks like you're moving on."   
  
Heero nodded. Everyone acted like he was going away forever. It made him uneasy. It was just a visit; he was certain he'd be back. Noin's face turned serious and she glanced past him towards the path away from their manor, her voice slightly quieter.   
  
"We need you here, Yuy, especially if I can't get my guards to pay enough attention."   
  
By guards she meant captains, Heero reminded himself. Noin needed no guards, though she had some anyway. Lady Po had ordered it...   
  
"Come back, Yuy, I don't want you away from this castle for long."   
  
Heero nodded, and Noin bowed to him ever so briefly. He could see Lady Po's look of distaste as she turned him towards the horses. He mounted his horse easily, without Po's help, but with her intense supervision, and brought it around, getting the feel for it. Noin looked solemn, and the nurse waved a hankey at him. He raised his hand in a half-hearted farewell, frustrated by his inability to think of what to do.   
  
Lady Po nodded to him, "Come now, Master Yuy, we must go."   
  
He nodded to her, and with a final glance a the assembly and the manor, turned his horse and galloped after her. He thought over his nervousness for a moment. Perhaps it wasn't the way everyone was acting that made him nervous. Perhaps it was the way everyone was so sure he would not return.  
  
________  
  
  
"We're on the road again, mi Aeternus, can't you see?"   
  
The sad, small, heap of ratty brown robes that covered the sad, small, blonde-haired boy shifted just slightly, as if looking up at the sky, but nothing would penetrate those shoddy mud colored coverings, and the blonde boy's companion knew it.   
  
"You should see the road around us, it is beautiful."   
  
The brown rags shook again and the green-eyed boy shook his head in regret. He looked up at the sky.   
  
"Day passes quickly, but so do we, we'll have traveled far by night time. Perhaps we'll find a place to stop between the next town, and I will find some work."   
  
The brown rags lifted, and for a moment, sad blue eyes covered by a light shock of gold hair poked into the light. The face was almost too much to bear, so the green-eyed boy did not turn around entirely.   
  
"I know you do not like it, but what are we supposed to do until we reach the castle. It will be over soon enough. The players are moving their pieces onto the board, and much sooner than we expected. We will, perhaps be late to the match, but we will be there."   
  
The blue eye blinked once, showing eternal sadness, and retreated back into the dark cover. A heavy cough racked the small body, and the green eyed boy was at his side in an instant. He supported the small bundle with his arm and his face showed his great concern.   
  
"We will be there soon. The bishop is pushing the pawn into play, and all progress toward the King. It will happen, and we will be there, I promise, I swore it, to you."   
  
The coughing stopped, and the green-eyed boy moved away again. He paused a moment, staring down the road, with those eyes the last inn owner had so thought as 'far-seeing', and the early lines the worry and suffering had wrought into his face became clearer in the noon sunlight. The brown covered boy kept his coughing too low to be heard and moved up closer to the green-eyed boy. A quick tug on the green-eyed boy's sleeve was all that was needed.   
  
He broke from his gazing and looked at the smaller figure, "come."   
  
They fell back into their pattern of comfortable reticence and proceeded down the road.  
  
  
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AN:  
What say you huddled masses? Let your voice be heard! Speak, spirits! I might even change some things for you :) .  
  
Kitten 


	5. Chapter 5

Alright, here I am still writing these stupid author's notes even though nobody's reading this *curse and sigh* Oh well...I think actually this part put me in a bad mood. This is where the story gets...freaky....er...complex....err....I don't know, but I've made the chapters shorter 1) because people like shorter chapters and I'm long winded and 2) this is where the prewriting ends and if I don't post as much I have longer to think about it *nervous grin* none of this part is throughly proof-read yet to see if it -really- fits in with the plot...when I discover the plot that is...have I mentioned that this is a very tenuous story...I'm not sure what's going to happen...All I'm getting is the same stupid cryptic hints that you've been getting from the stupid foreshadowing characters...*sigh* this part definitely makes me cranky. To be bsolutely safe, I've upped the rating for the next parts...oh, and here's a Disclaimer:  
  
I don't own it.  
  
There. Enjoy!  
Kitten  
_______________________________________________  
  
  
Duo stood and stared. Milliardo stood by his side, stoically as ever. Duo found the words to speak were hidden somewhere in the clutter that rested on his heart,   
  
"King...Treize?"   
  
Trieze stared deeply, arrestingly, with this starry eyed distraction at him, until Duo felt frozen, caught in a trap so expertly set that he knew it was there and still walked into it. If there was anything in this life that Duo wasn't used to it was the cold grip of fear. He blinked, feeling the uncanny hold still on him, reluctant to shake off. He looked at the tall nobleman in front of him. Treize had every feature of a ruler, or every feature that was to be expected. His blue coat virtually glittered with a show of wealth. Duo, though he didn't care much for the rules of formal attire(or know them), noticed that unlike Milliardo, Trieze's jacket had a small empty spot where the corsage of a single flower would normally rest. He decided that mentioning it would be pressing his luck, and Milliardo would probably kill him for it anyway, so he didn't. It was true that he'd grown to have some sort of attachment to Milliardo and his silent and concealed true nature in a very short time, but Treize, he felt, would be an entirely different affair. The noble smiled down at him, so warmly, it seemed. Duo wasn't sure of the protocol to greeting kings, and even if he had been, he doubted he would've done any of it. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and nodded,   
  
"This is a nice place ya got here."   
  
He almost heard Milliardo's wince, and smiled deeply to himself. Treize seemed to be paying little attention to him, though, despite his glue-like gazing. Duo felt Milliardo poke him in the back with an elbow and realized he had probably been staring too intently as well. Oh well, it wasn't as if it mattered much. They probably just thought he was amazed to be in the presence of a king or something stupid like that. Duo glared back at Milliardo then put on the bright-eyed look again for everyone to see. He glanced to either side at the impressively decorated room, didn't bother to excuse himself, and bounced off in the direction of a marble vase. He decided to spend a good long moment analyzing that until he could pick out what exactly he was expected to be doing in this stupid castle anyway. He tried to bore holes in the marble with his eyes and made a good show of being stupid. The feeling in his gut and the lingering gaze of the noblemen was enough to make him highly skeptical of their goodwill. He knew that feeling in his stomach was only one he got when something important and bad was happening. And he seriously doubted that either of noblemen simply felt the need to be kind to a poor war orphan.   
  
****  
  
Treize turned to Milliardo, "You've done well."   
  
He said almost tonelessly, except for the sound of practiced inflection and poorly obscured pomposity. Milliardo watched Duo flutter from one object to the next, examining each with an expert eye, and moving to the next almost instantly. He kept needlessly worrying about the youth's unruly tail knocking some priceless object from its perch. Each time, though, Duo managed to keep the swing just far enough away to stir the air, but befall no harm. He chastised himself. He'd be better off worrying about his unruly mouth. Treize's uncharacteristically focused eyes followed Duo's path, however erratic, with unreadable emotion concealed in them.   
  
Milliardo nodded, "I am pleased, your highness, that you think so."   
  
Treize allowed a slightly sinister smile show on half of his face, "No, it is I who is pleased, Milliardo."   
Milliardo shivered, trying to ignore the use of his name, and turned his attention back to Duo.   
  
"What's this anyway?"   
  
Duo now stared a large painting hanging on the wall. He turned his head sideways and shrugged,   
  
"You know, I don't think he got the effect he was going for."   
  
He turned away from the painting and faced them again, hand over his stomach, "If it's not to much to ask...is there any food around?"   
  
Treize smiled, "I will send some, you may eat to your heart's content."   
  
Duo grinned, "Alright! This is some nice place!"   
  
With more energy than ever he ran from place to place in the room. Milliardo nodded, "I suppose then, your highness..."   
  
"No,"   
  
Treize still stared at Duo, the unreadable look in his eyes, "You will stay, and answer my questions."   
  
"Yes your Majesty." Milliardo bowed.   
  
Duo laughed and looked out the great window, "how high up is this?"   
  
"A full story," Trieze responded with a certain pleasure in answering the question, "Below is the kitchens and work areas."   
  
Duo leaned out he window until his feet left the ground, "Wow..."   
  
Treize grinned. He spoke softly to Milliardo, "What is his name?"   
  
Milliardo watched Duo with uneasy eyes, "The woman at the...lodge...said Duo Maxwell."   
  
Treize nodded as Duo began to peer at the books on the shelves. "An interesting name..."   
  
"Yes, and orphan, though, despite his namesake."   
  
"How...old, is he?"   
  
Duo poked at something undoubtedly worth more than anything he'd ever seen in his life as if it were a dead fish.   
"Fifteen, Your Highness, Perhaps even sixteen or fourteen. He was with the Lady for many years. She said she received him when he was five, or thereabout."   
  
Milliardo resisted the temptation to lie about the boy's age, as if making him any younger would make a difference. Treize nodded, still seeming entranced despite the fact that Duo's mouth hadn't shut since he'd arrived. Milliardo wondered what the appeal was for a brief moment, before chastising himself away from the thought. Treize smiled and murmured deep in his throat.   
  
"That's all, for now."   
  
Milliardo nodded and bowed one last time, "Your highness."   
  
He turned his back and left, hoping to God he wouldn't have to come back.   
_______________- 


	6. Chapter 6

Treize took a few steps forward as Duo halted his buoyant exploration of the room.   
  
"Hey, where's goose-boy going?"   
  
Treize smiled the indulgent smile one would give to a child, "He has other important things to do in the castle."   
Duo shrugged, "Alright. What's he do anyway? He's got no sense of humor you know. He'll be back sometime, though, right? I got attached to the guy. Just cause he's got the personality of a tombstone."   
  
Treize nodded and looked down at Duo once more. Duo avoided staring at him directly. It miffed Treize slightly, but it was nothing to be concerned about. If he didn't seem like king, He looked as if he did. Anyway, this was enough bantering, he was getting tired.   
  
Treize gestured, "This way."   
  
He turned and walked towards the hallway adjacent to the doorway Milliardo had used for an exit. Duo stared at the door for long moment, but followed Treize.   
*  
  
  
Treize led him into a darker hallway. Duo kept his bearings and figured they were heading East, which meant further into the castle. He stared at the walls. The stone had turned gray on the inside, rather than the dusted white it was on the outside, and few decorative tapestried hung on the short walls. Treize stared at these and smiled, like one stares at familiar paintings that give fond memories. The castle was drafty. It made him want to shiver, but instead he just wrapped his arms around himself and walked after Treize. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but it didn't matter much to him. The only thing that mattered much at the moment was his growling stomach, and bloody distracting curiosity. Duo looked as far ahead as he could into the darkness for a distraction, and saw a picture on the wall ahead of them. He took a few quick steps and pulled ahead. He stopped in front of the painting, and heard Treize stop behind him. The picture was interesting, but the frame was even better. Finely crafted, not worked gold...it'd be too heavy. Maybe plate, but that somehow didn't fit the fineness of the carving. He wanted to touch it, but really didn't want to take his arms away from their comforting position. He stared at the painting with more intensity than he was used to and felt slightly cynical and doubtful, but quickly pushed those thoughts away. He needed to be cheerful to stay adopted, otherwise he'd be right back where he started,and madame Yourna would probably have to tell him he was too old to come back. Duo hated bad news. He stared at the frame again, and thought he could see the grain of the wood in a fine french curse. Briefly, he wondered how much it had cost, and tried to ignore the stupid chill in the hallway.   
*  
  
Treize stared at him, just as Duo stared at the picture on the wall. Curious, he reached forward to touch the swinging braid hanging down Duo's back, but Duo turned,   
  
"Hey, d'you think..." he stopped and looked at Treize's outstretched hand.   
  
Confusion danced in his brightly living eyes. They reminded Treize of the certain wine they used to have, that he only had on only those rarest of occasions. The memory made him want to smile, but he was already smiling.   
*  
  
  
Treize smiled, "I was merely going to ask you something."   
  
Duo nodded, but felt the chill of the hallways move up his spine. Treize still looked at him. Or, perhaps it wasn't the chill... Treize smiled to him again.   
  
"I wondered, what you know..."   
  
Treize moved in, and Duo was certain it wasn't the chill that was spreading up his spine any longer. He moved away, scowling darkly to himself, but not letting it sneak onto his face. That was the last thing he needed. Treize chuckled beneath his breath.   
  
"I admire things of beauty as well."   
  
He touched Duo lightly, and turned his attention to the painting,   
  
"It is nice, isn't it?"   
  
Duo looked at the painting as well. It was pretty, certainly, Duo thought, but he could tell, beneath the layers of paint and grime, that it was a blank cloth, being eaten away by the paint which made it beautiful. The acid in the paint, ruining it eventually. It was a bitter sort of irony, he thought, and the very kind that Life enjoyed so much. He felt his face harden, and was glad for the silence of the hallway. Treize no longer looked at him. He cleared his face and looked at the King. Treize turned and refocused on Duo. Again, he ran his hand over Duo's face, then smiled,   
  
"I was only going to ask."   
  
They stared for one long moment, then Treize continued down the hallway. Duo knew he wasn't meant to follow, and even if he was, he would not.   
  
  
  
  
The thing was, Treize was going to wait for the day when he would.   
  
  
  
___________________  
Great, *sigh* I get a review and then I go and do something horrible to the characters. Geez...aren't I a great person! This was short, but I'm trying to buy a bit of time so that I may update regularly O.O something I am usually very bad at. Well...22 days makes a habit, so it I can keep going a little longer, maybe I'll be able to update every day. Anyway, my not-so-spirits, enjoy, if you can. O.O  
  
Kitten 


	7. Chapter 7

"Battle, battle, everywhere, and not a drop to drink,"   
  
the blonde haired revolutionary laughed deeply, the sound as rewarding a mixture and vintage as the wine swirling gently in her appropriated glass. He stoic companion was at her side as ever, his own glass half raised to his lips, but not even the slightest movement of liquid betrayed any tip of the glass towards a drink. He stared ahead, simply unmoving as ever as she bit her lip in slight contemplation of the things they could do at this very moment. She managed to restrain herself and keep her free hand on the arm of her chair as she refocused the fragmented portions of her mind on the situation at hand. Her wicked smile however, stayed rigidly put, assisted by the sparkling garnet liquid she had taken from the town's deepest wine cellars.   
  
"I will have to thank the church for this fine entertainment, don't you think?" she asked no one in particular.   
  
Her silent companion's gaze didn't even waver from it's position. The mercenary general in front of her shifted in his chair, no doubt assured by now that he had entered a bad deal that he may not be able to negotiate out of. Being reminded of his presence threw her into a bad mood, at least, in the sense that it was bad for others. She swirled her glass and laughed a little more, leaning forward in her seat,   
  
"You know, general, this town could bleed me all the wine in the world, sweat me a thousand tons of gold, and scream me every tome of knowledge in the world," she leaned back, "But nothing, nothing they could do would ever equal the scream of steel, the sweat of leather armor, and the blood of a hundred hundred men in heated battle before me."   
  
She raised her hands, almost heedless of the wine and smiled deeply again,   
  
"The cacophony of battle is a symphony no man could write for me. There is nothing so beautiful in the world as the sound of man as a beast of conflict."   
  
Seeming to regain herself, she lowered her arms lazily to the arms of the chair and sipped her wine, half closed eyes burning with waiting delight. The mercenary general shifted, and knew his deeds now.   
  
"A hundred hundred men will join your battle tonight, Madame,"   
  
"And a hundred hundred men will fight against us and die."   
  
She smiled, raising her glass in mock salute, as he stood, clutching his helmet like a fearful housewife. He gave a short bow and exited. Quietly, she went back to contemplating her mission and her accomplishments this far. Outside she could hear her soldiers behaving noisily and it made her smile. Everyone had their piece of this town to take home. She scooted in her cushioned seat and ran a hand over the finely carved wooden arm. She could thank the bishop at a later date for permanent loan of his chair, and explain the pitiful demise of the monk that guarded it. She could also thank the church's wine cellar as well as the local's contributions to her poor thirsty entourage. This town was so hospitable, she smiled. There was a scream from outside and her smile widened. If she was lucky one of her soldiers would be too tired to fight tomorrow, and she would have to make an example. Oh, no, not even her own soldiers were immune to her. She smiled again, thinking of general's exit, and slowly reached her empty hand over to her companion's staunch thigh. She ran an appraising hand over it and chuckled, leaning her head back, and returning to her previous thoughts.   
  
The battle would begin tomorrow for Calais.  
  
____________________  
  
  
Lucrezia Noin watched Heero Yuy leave on his horse, unaware as ever. The nurse and servants were hardly in attention at all, and as Yuy faded from sight, she focused more and more on what this tiding could be, coming her way. She waited, still with uncharacteristic patience caused by her preoccupying thoughts, until the messenger she had seen galloping madly over Heero Yuy's shoulder and under Lady Po's nose came into focus. As she had feared. Bad tidings. The messenger was bedraggled, torn and bleeding. His horse was frothed over, and bloodied spit dripped from its mouth; its eyes were rimmed with white from battle maddened fear. She waited until he stopped, dropping from the saddle and letting the horse stamp and rave behind him. He stumbled up to her, voice chocked with dust from the road,   
  
"Lady Noin, battle, on the Western fronts. They've reached High Terrace."   
  
He stumbled forward, and finally caught her arm, leaning heavily on her for support. She did not move. Her face was grim. She could still see the clouds of dust raised by her best tactician's departure. The messenger stared up at her, filthy brown with dirt, and staring with black rimmed eyes.   
  
She nodded, "So. It's finally come."   
  
The messenger looked up at her again, and stood back on weak legs. He stood straight and saluted, murmuring sharply,   
"General."   
  
Lucrazia Noin let her head fall until she could see the tips of her well shined boots. The horse calmed itself, sniffling for water and food. It's come, She thought. And she'd just lost her best asset, and best friend.  
  
  
____________________  
  
  
  
"Calais?"   
  
Asked the messenger boy, staring at them with wide, dark eyes. The green-eyed boy nodded, subconsciously shielding his companion from the messenger's view.   
  
The messenger shook his head and pointed, "It can't be, sir, the road to Calais leads that way," he cast his eyes down and fidgeted speaking softly in that deceptive voice that gave the green eyed boy confidence in his future as a messenger, "and the front moves away, the front always moves away from the forest."   
  
The green eyed boy nodded, giving the road an appraising look. Briefly, the messenger saw the figure in brown behind him peek his head around the slim green eyed boy as if to look at him, but it quickly ducked back, making the messenger's curiosity peak to uncertain levels.   
  
"Yes. The road bends mid way to avoid a sand swamp and goes over the rock hills. It is an undefendable pass."   
  
He paused again and stared down the road. The messenger leaned ever so gently to the side and lifted his chin to see if he could catch another glance at the brown robed figure. The figure in the robe shifted back agian, as if avoiding him, but then poked the hooded head out again and stared back at him with blank darkness. He blinked, and lifted his hand instinctively in front of his chest licking his nervously dried lips. The green eyed boy turned and he quickly snapped back to attention.   
  
"The front moves, as you said," the green eyed boy said quietly and reached into his satchel, pulling out a loaf of bread which he split and gave half to the messenger in a common gesture of goodwill.   
  
The messenger took it happily and began to chew on the fairly tough traveling ration, "I can take a message there if you like, sir. I will be in Calais in no more than half a day."   
  
The green eyed boy's intense visible eye gazed at him with an eerie, undefinable certainty behind them,   
  
"What is your name, boy?"   
  
The messenger looked up from his bread and swallowed his bite, his eyes glinted in something of a defensive pride that was easily recognized as nervous and instinctive,   
  
"My name is Rohan. I come from the Deep Woods."   
  
The green eyed boy nodded and turned away once again. The messenger took the opportunity to lean around and look at the brown cloaked figure once again. The figure shied less than before, but stayed within the protective cover of the green eyed boy's body. Rohan smiled and brought his hand up again, this time, to curl his fingers in a slight wave. The brown rags shifted oddly, as if the figure had tilted its head, but before he could estimate, the green eyed boy turned around again and he snapped back to attention.   
  
"Well, Rohan, you are a good messenger for the Deep Woods."   
  
Rohan gleamed with pride.   
  
"If you must go to Calais you must hurry, and keep my words. Go the woods you know, you will have time to see enough pave-stones later."   
  
He broke off a bit more of the chunk fo bread, and gave a bit to the rags behind him. Rohan did not even see a hand peek out before the rations disappeared. The green eyed boy took off his satchel and opened it, handing Rohan a small white sack.   
  
"We go to the castle."   
  
Rohan nodded, and stowed away the sack in his own satchel. He felt his usual nervousness around people, but felt, somehow, different for this time. He fidgeted more, looking at the ground as the green eyed boy gave him a parting gesture and the two moved a few steps away.   
  
"Wait!"   
  
He cried, turning to the two again. He quickly threw his eyes to the ground and nodded again in an abbreviated bow. The green eyed boy looked at him with utter calm and readiness as he looked up again.   
  
"I wish...if, maybe, you see my friend at the castle, you could give him word...that...we're all well. And that I...wish him the best...and..." he paused, staring at the ground and scuffing one boot with the other, "he is missed in the Deep Woods. Please tell Duo Maxwell. Should you see him."   
  
The green eyed boy spoke clearly, "Duo Maxwell."   
  
For a moment it seemed as if the slightest smile graced the quiet face, but the green eyed boy and his companion moved on, "Trust Nine, Rohan. And stay well. Duo Maxwell will hear of you. I promise."   
  
Rohan watched the retreating back of the green eyed boy in something of a wonder. His feet felt a little numb, and his fingers stiff, the effects of his fear wearing off. He swallowed and shook his head, shaking his shaggy black hair from his eyes. He looked up, to see that the brown cloaks had paused in the road, and now faced him, for what he could tell. Slowly, the sleeve raised and a small pale hand poked out over his chest. The fingers curved in a small wave, and pale blonde hair and blue eyes shone briefly, showing an unspoken understanding. Rohan felt his weight lighten ever so slightly as he watched the two turn and leave down the road for the castle. He turned away and looked down his own road, trying to achieve some sense of what the green-eyed boy had spoke of, and had seen. He found himself at a loss, and merely began to put one foot before the other, eyes on the hardened path ahead of him and hand clutching the satchel slung over his shoulder. He didn't know what the green eyed boy had meant, but he was certain of his words. He'd never heard a more true promise in his entire life.  
  
  
_____________________  
AN: Well wasn't that interesting... *buying time* I still have parts, so expect some updates fairly regularly. This story is weird. I hoped you liked this chapter, considering it didn't have and Duo part in it, and I wonder how many of you already know who everybody is O.O . Anyone want to make a guess *evil laugh*? Well, my spirits, I do hope you enjoy the story. and thanks to my reviewer, Kayla! I promise there is more, I just don't know what it's about O.O . Heh heh. I keep changing the stupid summary, I don't think I'm very good at them*sigh*. And what do you think of the formatting? Doin' it all myself now *sigh* stupid thingy. Anyway, best of luck, my spirits.  
  
Kitten 


	8. Chapter 8

Duo leapt off the last of the stairs down to the kitchen and grinned.   
  
"Food!"   
  
He ran forward. A kitchen maid walked out of the kitchen bearing a large tray. She nearly ran into to Duo and cursed at him,   
  
"You idiot! What are you doing in here?"   
  
Duo looked up, letting parts of the two rolls he had stuffed in his mouth crumbled to the floor.   
  
"Mmph?"   
  
He cocked his head to the side. She set the tray down with a bang,   
  
"Stop it! We worked on those all day! Who are you to be eating our rolls anyway!"   
  
Duo dropped the roll in his hand back in the bowl, but decided to keep the one in his back pocket. He swallowed and coughed,   
  
"Hey, lady, They call me Duo, and calm down, I just got here. Can't you feed a hungry guy?"   
  
She set her hands on her hips and glared at him. She had black hair that hung over her forehead like angry teeth as she glared at him with glittering eyes. She was pretty, Duo realized, and snuck another roll into his pocket. Remembering his conversation with Treize, he pushed that thought away.   
  
"NO!" She yelled at him, "I don't care what they call you, I call you a thief! You think we can feed every vagabond coming into the kitchen! Get out of here!"   
  
She snapped at him with a rolled up napkin and he dodged away, smiling over his shoulder at her,   
  
"calm down! I'm going!"   
  
She glared at him as he took his sweet time in getting out.   
  
"Get OUT!!"   
  
She yelled and snapped the napkin at him again. He grinned and finally turned to leave. She sighed and looked down at the devastation that had befallen the carefully prepared rolls. She held her forehead and pushed her bangs back.   
"Dammit..." she muttered.   
  
She looked up to see Duo lingering at the edge of the stairwell. She growled and threw the first thing within reach at him with all her might. Duo caught the roll and stuffed it in his shirt, grinning,   
  
"Thanks!"   
  
She pointed and got ready to yell at him again, when he waved,   
  
"See ya later!"   
  
She saw the extra rolls sticking out of his pockets as he ran up the stairs. "YOU—!"   
  
*****  
  
"Mmmm, buttery..."   
  
Duo licked his fingers as he finished another roll and headed up the stairs to the yet unexplored parts of the castle. He figured he was safe as long as he didn't run into anyone he knew. And of course, excluding the pretty kitchen girl whose name he never caught, (he pulled out another roll and dug in, relishing the fresh-from-the-oven warmth) that made up all of two people, one being the King, whom he had a distinct lack of enthusiam for reacquainting, and the King's chief advisor, the goosey noble who had adopted him, Milliardo.   
  
"Maxwell?"   
  
He froze and turned, straightening and putting on his best innocent face,   
  
"Hey! Goosey! How's it going?"   
  
Milliardo walked up and looked down at him a moment, then shifted to look slightly at the wall to their left; hid voice was soft and quiet in it's normal restrained way,   
  
"How was you meeting with His Majesty Treize?"   
  
Duo didn't want to think about it. At all. Ever again.   
  
"Just fine, he's a good guy, I suppose."   
  
Milliardo nodded, "You may think his ways strange but it's best not to comment on them."   
  
Duo jumped back, "Hey!? What do you think I am? Some insensitive jerk?"   
  
Milliardo glared at him, unamused entirely, "I am only concerned."   
  
Duo folded his arms across his chest, "Come on, you know me! What do you have to worry about?"   
  
Milliardo kept his eyes away from Duo directly,   
  
"I know that you seem to be naturally combative—."   
  
"Hey!" Duo flared at him, "what do you mean? I'm not combative! I'm the nicest guy I've ever met!"   
  
Milliardo inwardly rolled his eyes and sighed.   
  
"Either way, it would be best for you keep your mouth shut for once."   
  
"Are you saying I talk to much? And was that a hint of humor I detected, goosey?"   
  
Duo grinned and Milliardo ignored him,   
  
"You must come now. You've a few short lessons to attend."   
  
Duo shied away from his grasp, "Wait? What? Lessons? Who said anything about lessons?"   
  
Milliardo sighed and took his arm gently, "You've much to learn to stay in the castle. You must at least know the basics of politeness"   
  
"Hey!" Duo protested down the entire hallway.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Milliardo watched as Duo dropped yet another plate of silverware on the ground with a clatter. The teacher sighed and gave up on the lesson, turning it over to another tutor. This man handed Duo a stack full of books.   
  
Duo cried out, "Aww Man! You mean I have to learn to read?"   
  
Milliardo covered his face as the tutor nearly passed out. He heard the other tutor hit the ground as the first began to explain about the balancing drill.   
  
"Whose idea was it to train this boy?"   
  
Milliardo looked over at the head tutor standing beside him, "It was decided that it would be wise to give him at least some formal court training."   
  
Milliardo was loath to admit he'd thought it necessary. He was glad, however, that he'd had the foresight to only ask for a few small lessons on the most necessary of skills. He heard Duo curse as the stack of books tumbled to the floor and hit his foot. It was much like the tumbling silverware, and glass before that, and papers before that, and ink before that. Milliardo wished it would end already. Duo cursed again as a particularly heavy book he was balancing on his head fell on his other foot. Milliardo faked a small itch so he could cover his face. It was only a few, short, lessons.  
  
_______________  
  
  
Noin pushed her hair back and slumped back in her chair,   
  
"How am I going to train a new tactician in time for this battle?"   
  
she moaned to no one in particular. Her frustration threatened to override her will give her untested generals a chance. She had, of course, upgraded their position from underling captains to that of field generals in some kind of lame attempt to make them more clever and experienced for the upcoming battle. She groaned again and her field generals exchanged looks across the table. It was their last few hours in the hold conference room with the rickety tables, and they had a pot going on whether or not the table would last beneath her wrath. Noin set her elbows on the poor faithful table and clutched her hair with tension. It couldn't be that she would have a relaxing amount of time to get to the front with her soldiers, but somehow neither signal or cause for rush had occurred. It was some dreadful game she thought she wouldn't have to play again in the name of King Treize. She looked again at the barren room and the expectant faces of her former captains. She resisted the urge to button up her uniform another notch and stood, frowning at them as best she could,   
  
"What is the signal we're waiting for, generals?"   
  
She watched them all go into stuttering hypothesis and conversations of utter uselessness. Why did Treize have to call Yuy now? Wasn't it in his best interest to keep his brightest future leaders near the front? She hated to think that some foul whim of the royalty had called him away at the time she needed him most. She knew that if she had asked that question with him in the room, he would have answered. She felt her teeth grinding as she clamped her eyes shut and tried not to yell. It was a game they played many times, the game of tactics. After his father had left him to their care...   
  
"General Noin, sir!"   
  
A soldier snapped of a salute in the doorway, and didn't waste time apologizing. It cooled her anger a bit to see that her soldiers knew her so well.   
  
"Yes, soldier?"   
  
"We have word, sir, of the rebels movement towards Calais. They move quickly, ma'am."   
  
She interrupted him, "But do they mean to battle?"   
  
"Yes, ma'am, we have the signal."   
  
She saw the sodleir's countenance change just slightly as his voice dipped in apprehension.   
  
"And what was it, soldier?"   
  
"It was the children ma'am. The people of Calais have sent their children ahead of them, they don't have time...to leave, ma'am."   
  
Noin grimaced as her soldier held his position quietly. They had sent their children ahead. Their forward scouts had not returned. Noin knew the people of Calais well, they were aware of battle like no other township. It would not be an easy town to take, but nor would it be an easy town to hold. She thought of those she knew in the town and took a small breath to calm her unhappiness at this news.   
  
"Round the troops, tell them to move whether I'm front column or not. I don't need to be in front to tell them where Calais is. We either arrive before nightfall or fight in the night after. Go soldier."   
  
He nodded, saluted again with more sharp vigor than before and left. Noin sighed. She was putting her soldiers in danger again, before many were ready, she was sure, but the option to travel slow was not one to be taken. The clock had been set and time was passing quickly. They needed to be in Calais, and they were two days away.  
  
  
__________________  
  
  
Rohan followed the path to the townships with his eyes on the bright and clear skyline more often than the road. He stared about with wide eyed wonder at the smoothed grass fields and quickly tapering clumps of trees. He had never seen a flat horizon but once upon the river, when he had no business there. He smiled to himself, thinking about it, but would've bet hard against that a stranger could see it. Or course, it wasn't like he had met many strangers on the road. Madame Yourna had been hesitant to send him on this mission because of the way he acted to strangers. A child , though close to manhood, could not exist on the road alone, she had said, wringing her brittle, small hands, and the way Rohan would shy from a body, friendly or not, made him suspect and unusual. But she had sent him anyway, apparently having some argument with a voice she remembered in her head that made her cry with either happiness or sadness, because he was the strongest of all her orphans. She had hugged him to, and he had to let her because she was crying. She didn't want to send him away. It made him wonder how anyone ever got adopted. He turned his gaze to the ground and shuffled his foot for just a moment. Thinking of adoption made him think of things he didn't want to. He wiped his sleeve across his nose and breathed a small sigh. He turned his gaze to the road again and found himself looking at a great blur of a dust cloud. The heat from the ground rose and fogged the apparition into obscurity, so he could not determine what was making it. He felt apprehension begin to grow in his chest and remembered what the two travelers had told him. He was supposed to travel in the woods he knew about because he was going to see lots of pave stones and trust nine, whatever that meant. He squinted to see if he could catch some sign of who it was, but that only made his fear grow sharp and painful in his chest, like it usually did face to face with someone. He glanced about the road again like a new traveler and saw a healthy gathering of thick trees by the side of the road that stretch up for as far as he could estimate. If he was in luck and his eyes were as good as he thought, he saw no tapering off of the treeline, meaning there be enough healthy foliage for him to hide well enough. He took his satchel from his shoulder and loped quietly for the woods to the side of the road. He didn't actually know these trees, but he knew his own well enough to make a guess. He set his hand reassuringly on one of the trunks, struck again with the feeling of home he always felt in his own woods, and the mysticism he had felt among the two travelers. He moved through this wood, acquainting himself with the trees and brush, and keeping his well-used, wary eyes on the dust cloud up the road. He smiled again to himself when he realized he felt he was moving more swiftly and safer than he had on the regular man's road and watched the growing black mass that was the cause of the dirt cloud. The woods had taught him that he needed to be wary of men, and now, he was wondering why such a great number of men would moving down the road to Calais.  
  
  
  
  
--*End*--  
  
How did you like that? It was a bit of a wait, but I'm starting to write as I go now *sigh* all out of already done stuff. I left in the first part so this would be a little longer, and maybe a little amusing. I think it's kind of lame, but there may not be much to laugh at later. Please enjoy, and tell me what you think. Until another time my spirits,  
  
Kitten  
-sends greetings from the Dead Hand. 


	9. Chapter 9

AN: I knew it had been a while since I updated, but I wasn't sure where to go. I had originally planned this part after another, longer part involving the oc Rohan and the military movements, but wasn't certain you all woudl go for it. It does happen through this part, but I sincerely doubted you would care so much, and it had been a while since the last update, I decided I'd give out a little of what was probably really wanted. This is a fan story anyway :) . I will put up the military part, but probably not until later. For the sake of continuity, though, know it happened. *waves* anyway, this is a weird and unproven bit. Hope you like it!  
  
Kitten  
____________________________________  
  
  
Duo limped down a darkened, drafty hallway, and stopped only to rub his shin and wince, leaning against the cool stone walls. He suddenly had a grave appreciation for his common status after dropping what had to be tons of books and silverware on his foot. He set his foot down and limped along some more, trailing his hand against the wall for support until he gradually made the limp unnoticeable. He appreciated what Milliardo meant to do for him, but if in order to be presentable in court he had to be able to do half the things Milliardo had shown him, he'd rather wait behind the tapestries like all the other servants.   
  
In his way, he thought, wincing, Milliardo had been trying to do him a favor, or, was trying to be kind to him; it was just that he was awkward. He pushed off from the wall and gritted his teeth a little, continuing in his journey. In a way, he was being like the parent he had posed as for the adoption. It was really kind of sweet...  
  
a single click echoed down the hallway, interrupting his revery.   
  
Duo froze and stared back into the blank face of darkness that had watched his back throughout his journey in the hallway. He couldn't help but feel his heart beat a fraction faster, and the urge to sweat despite the cold draft. He broke from his transfixion and trotted on, ignoring his sore foot in haste. He nearly ran, only preventing himself from bolting by thinking of the noise it would make in this hallway. He cursed himself for taking this route when he knew it was likely he'd be spotted, and most likely it would be by King Treize. Nearly as the though crossed his mind, he bumped gently into something solid and bounced back, faltering on the injured foot and falling against the wall. A leisurely grip on his upper arms prevented him from sliding to the cruel stone floor in the same way a too close body prevented him from feeling the coldness of the hallway except through the stone on his back.   
  
"Careful," came the eerily calm voice, with a small curve of one royally molded mouth to accompany the gentle taunt.   
Duo found himself shaking for a moment in his grip, his mouth opening and shutting like a startled shutter banging in the wind. He made a small attempt to wrest himself free without overly disturbing the king, but felt that slight grip tighten into something viselike just long enough to discourage the attempted escape. Treize moved closer, nearly able to look straight down on Duo as it was, and Duo tried to slide off to the left and out of his hold. This time, Treize tightened and kept his grip tight, moving back and bending just enough to have the end of his chin touch the tops of Duo's bangs. Duo shivered again, arching his back to take it away from the mocking wall that encouraged him with its chill and leaned against the monarch's arm, hoping the hint would allow him escape without injury...of either party. But Treize either overestimated his abilities, or underestimated Duo's will to resist with tooth and nail, because Treize lifted his left hand away and brought it to rest gently at Duo's ribcage, then across his waist as lightly as a leaf skimming a pond and up again to his face.   
  
Duo jerked back, baring his teeth as much to hold his tongue as keep himself from biting. Treize just smiled his little, not-quite-present-in-this-reality smile at Duo's obvious displeasure and brushed his face gently once, then stood up straight. Duo used that moment to break, putting a good four foot distance between himself and Treize before he stopped and watched warily. Treize smiled,   
  
"this hallyway is damp...unhealthy. I don't use it often. But should you ever decide to visit," he swept his hand briefly as if he were showing a ballroom to first time guests,   
  
"I will be here, eventually."   
  
Duo just frowned, one million thoughts of betrayal buzzing through his head at once, poised for a run in the opposite direction. He knew he shouldn't have risked this stupid hallway again. Treize lowered his shoulders in a slow bow,   
"Waiting. For you, my favored."   
  
The distant man then proceeded to turn and disappear quietly into the gaping darkness that had hidden the entire happening deep in its gullet like a curious, jealous spectator. Duo growled, thinking of all he'd been through to get here. His hands balled into tight fists and he glared into the darkness as if he could see the retreating back like an archer saw a bull's-eye. He turned on his heel and shivered, holding himself against what he'd felt, and thought of the blue eyed noble, doing him favors by teaching him to hold books on his head. A small consolation for a long journey, and he could only wonder how long he would have whatever protection he had now.  
  
___________________  
  
A reflection of bad times, the dark haired boy thought, or maybe just a bad reflection. He grimaced in disgust and swiping his hand across the crystalline surface of mirror as he turned away from it. It was unshakeably cold beneath his warm, damp palm and it made him shiver. He saw, now, lady Po walking up the stone corridor and taking out a handkerchief.   
  
"You mustn't touch things like that; nasty mirror. Mirrors have been bad luck in your family for generations, Lord Heero."   
  
She swiped the handkerchief across his cheek to banish an imaginary smudge before wiping his hand prints of the mirror, as well grabbing his hand wiping the bad luck from it.   
  
She sighed, "oh, I can't imagine why that title doesn't roll of my tongue. IT is the proper title. How I wish they would give us some indication of your standing, but I've hardly seen a worthwhile servant in this place. I suppose sir would be better, but I can't tell if they regard you as duke or lieutenant any longer..."   
  
Heero wished he could block all of her words from his ears, but he needed to listen to at least a little of this. That was Lady Po's sensitivity, to be aware of the harsh reality of the best informative lines in the castle, even though she distrusted servants. They needed to know what was going on. IT could be anything from a coup to a crowning. He didn't know himself, and if Lady Po didn't know then things were worse than he thought they were. He had desperate urges to run, smash all the mirrors in the confounded palace and scream and yell for an explanation of why he was here. He hadn't said a word since he arrived. Every thing he saw seemed to pull out any words he wanted to say and suck them into themselves, like the mirror. He knew it only made Lady Po talk more, because she was concerned. But what was she concerned about? She had nothing to worry about.   
  
"Greasy mirrors, these won't do. Glad we don't have an of the ostentatious things in the castle at home..."   
  
Heero let her fuss over him and the mirror and felt a rising dread twist his stomach like a soldier's twined meat and hold it above the fire as he saw a tall figure coming down the hallway. He couldn't say anything. His mouth..his throat didn't work. Will it! Will it! He wanted to scream at himself, but he made no reaction. Always no reaction...always no–,   
"Come Heero."   
  
He was seized by the arm and dragged away from the tall dark figure....who carried a silver tray...laden with minuscule hors d'oeuvres...and stopped outside a door in the hallway.  
  
____  
  
Heero wanted to curse himself, curse himself a thousand times. He punched his own thigh and experienced a quivering of fear that Lady Po would notice a bruise. He cursed again and held his head in his hands. He would curse himself a thousand times upon a thousand times if he could, but no noise escaped him through his constricted throat. The only sound that came from Heero Yuy was the small thump of his fist on his thigh, and that came like a the small breath of a startled assassin. But that wasn't the only breath he heard.  
  
  
  
Duo nearly lost himself, stumbling forward through what had been marked, strangely enough, with a small sign that he could only hope was some encryption of the word 'exit'. He felt the draft of the tunnel shutting behind him, and took in a small involuntary breath as he took in the room -suite, rather- he now occupied. His first thought came to the odd statue set in a chair before him, the second to the flicking blue eyes that tore through him from the opposite mirror. He had stumbled through a panel in one of the 'guest' stuites and found himself a guest. Palpitations of fear quickened his blood as he stood, but the statue -person, he corrected his muddled thoughts- didn't move. In fact, all that moved were those ice flame eyes that now held steady on him. He faltered, staring at the scene in the available wall mirror across from him. He saw himself, startled, looking gangly, tall, bedraggled and pale, covered head to toe in scuffed black clothing from the orphanage, his face slightly streaked with dirt, standing behind the chair of the living statue, who sat immobile, barely betrayed by breath even, in the clothes of a high courtier, with the demeanor of a granite slab.   
  
For a time, they stared, and nothing happened. Duo straightened and watched in the mirror. Slowly, the blue eyes moved to the mirror as well, and they waited.   
  
Duo felt an unperformed gesture, heard an unsaid word. Fear gripped a stoic heart. Duo couldn't manage a parting flippancy, he turned with sluggish haste and stumbled towards the door like a man too tired to move, but moving with speed. He managed a smile now, quavery and sick, as he faced the door away from that scene, and felt a twinge of darkness in his heart. He knew he was running away, but his hand closed over the unadorned, warm doorhandle, and he fell onto it like a dying man pushing his way to escape. Behind him, he could feel cornered, as cornered as Duo's smile appeared, the other, left with no where to run to, turning to watch him make his escape. 


	10. Chapter 10 Chapter 7, part 2

oi. I did some fixing, and I hope it shows up. going to have more very soon for certain. And I'm still looking for a site that would like to host my story. I get very few responses *tear*. this will be finished soon, I think, unless I get all long winded *smile* .Enjoy on, my spirits.  
  
Kitten  
  
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Somewhere to the northeast of Calais, Lucrezia Noin pulled on her dark blue coat of office and tugged on her clean satin gloves. Even as she did this, she was stalking down the dirt hallways highlighted orange-yellow by the sun filtering through the tough tent canvas. She emptied her lungs in a short breath and tossed her hair from her eyes with a small shake of her head. Anywhere else but here, she would have been self conscious of the gesture, but here, every time saving device counted. She knew she had only a limited amount of time to get to Calais before it was destroyed, and became a bastion of strength for the rebellion.   
  
She felt a pain in her chest as she thought of the army of children that had dragged itself to the castle, those who weren't wailing for thier parents as grim and as stoic as the people that had raised them. Orphans, they expected to be, she thought, and resisted the need to bury her face in her cool satin covered hands. She settled that sadness in her heart and changed it anger. It was her greatest wish to tear off the finery and have it out with the general who had brought war to their kingdom again, after all the misery it had caused last time. She coud not, however, until she made it to battle with this barbarian rebel. Then, the finery would be torn apart in its own way, she smiled. The sooner they reached Calais, the sooner that would happen, and it would all be over, either one way or another, and Noin knew the people of Calais better than anyone. her own soldiers, suffering so much loss after the last war, set a town nearby Noin's chosen Duchy, and raised families with the comfort of their fellows around them, when all of their homes and families had been burned away. Calais was a symbol to her. The people, the town, were important, because they had lost everything. Like Noin. Like the children. Like Heero...  
  
She, thanks to combination of factors, did not even need to duck to exit the long tunnel of tent and enter a brief moment of sunlight before burying again in the canvas caverns that made up the camp of her army for the protection of the king and the Dukedom. She frowned to herself as she walked into the rather cramped tent holding the council table they had dragged into the field in order to allow the seven or six other 'generals' that would be serving under her. In her secret heart of hearts, she felt more for the Dukedom than the King or his country, and buried even deeper in that second heart was the desire that all her soldiers feel the same way. No one would loose his life for King Treize, but she knew the boy and family they would loose their lives for.   
  
The generals stood, giving her the unusual courtesy of being able to see them all stand crooked beside their chairs as they ducked the roof of the tent for the lady general. The frown must have scared them, she reasoned as she shook her first general's hand and sat down, thereby granting them all permission to squeeze back down uncomfortably. She had to admit it was amusing to watch some of the more self-conscious generals and those who had 'let themselves go' get back into their chairs with added attempts at maintaining dignity. She thanked whatever small soldier had put her chair near the door rather than at the back of the tent, as was traditional.   
  
As usual, her opening speech was short, but it was unusually terse, and it reflected in the faces of her more youthful generals. She had only a little time to reach Calais before the town and its peoples were doomed, not to mention any soldier that tried to save the fortified town. As much as she had faith in the town, she would not underestimate her enemy, and she trusted the judgement of the people in calais almost better than her own.   
  
Even as the council progressed she felt herself fidgeting in unusual ways. She was short tempered and impatient, at least outside of battle, she knew well enough, but it seemed as if something pressed on her back, pushing her farther from her goal as she sat here. In a way it was maddening in itself, however, she wasn't a general because she gave things up to blind fate and luck. The healthy soldier knew his luck and made the rest.   
  
With little reluctance she took her analytical mind away from the generals' talk of tactics and put it to her agitation. It was nothing natural for her to be so concerned. She felt something stabbing at her, prodding the back of her mind like an angry child with a toy sword. Something was wrong!   
  
And then, she knew.   
  
Her instinct was bothering her; her battle instinct. She snapped alert in an instant and turned her head just enough to catch the assassin behind her, dressed as a regular soldier in her army standing guard. Noin wondered how long she had been sitting there, waiting to thrust a knife in her back, as She stood, throwing back her chair, and spinning to meet and apprehend her intended assassin. The girl in the soldier's costume screamed, her generals stood, Noin grabbed the girl's knife and elbowed her across the face, sending the would be assassin to the ground. Noin stood over her opponent as her generals scrambled to get near and see. Soldiers had gathered in a small, loose circle as well, and she was glad to see more than a few had a distinct look of disgust on their faces.   
  
She glared at her assassin, "Rebel."   
  
The assassin glared up at her, then spit on the ground, creating a rather large red spot to her side,   
  
"There would be no need to assassinate if you would simply give in to the rebel plot. We have suffered enough under King Treize."   
  
"You know that's a lie, rebel propaganda. King Treize's reign has only disintegrated in these last years."   
  
Her generals seemed shocked, but not totally put off by her slight treason. The rebel glared at her, but her eyes showed intelligence. She knew. Noin narrowed her eyes.   
  
"That's enough of this. You will neither assassinate me, nor return with useful tactical information. You won't be killed until you've had trial outside the miliatary. We will house you, assassin, but we won't house you well."   
  
The soldiers all grumbled or cheered agreements as they hurried to do what was ordered. She relied on and trusted her soldiers, they would do nothing she wouldn't approve of. Her generals each gave her a congratulations or a look of amazement.   
  
And then, there was a scream from the far part of the camp. Noin stared off into the horizon where the scream eminated, echoed, and died like the daylight. The assassin was dead, by her own knife. For a moment, calm reigned, then mild chaos usurped it as they dealt with the assassin's sudden unexpected mood. The guards that had taken the assassin away came back to Noin for orders, sincere looks of apology in their faces and regret in their hearts for failing their general, but not a word of apology or excuse escaped their lips.   
  
Their words were echoes, like the echoes of the scream, that Noin didn't really hear or need to hear. She told them what to do, rearranged her camp into its former order, and dismissed her generals. Noin kept her disciplined posture until she was certain the excitement had died down, and her generals had reentered their tents. She walked to the tunnel that led to her tent and turned a cloth lined corner before allowing herself to admit to the cold shaking at the center of her chest. She leaned against a sturdy tent pole and covered her face with her hand, wrapping the other arm around her body. Some felt the urge to breathe too deeply, but refrained, only allowing a slight shake. Slowly, she stood away and regained her calm. With a sad sigh, she rubbed her face with a gloved hand and wished for once, she didn't have to wear a mask.  
  
  
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It was approaching dusk before Rohan came anywhere near the cause of the massive dust cloud that had loomed on the far road. From his vantage in the woods, he could easily watch while having at least cover from any cursory glance his traveling company's scouts might throw in his direction. He felt no sense of danger in his woods, and neither made a conscious effort to control the sounds his light feet made, nor spent any time preoccupying himself with whether or not he could be seen through some leafless area while he watched. He had, in fact, taken out a piece of the traveling bread the green eyed boy had given him and been spit soaking it into softness as he went, nibbling a bite between avoiding branches.   
He crunched through the forest towards the darkening camp, and had thoughts of hot soup and a spare tent as he surveyed the great encampment. But even as he salivated as the smell of roasting hare reached him, he blushed and flinched away from the thoughts of having to speak to people, particularly road weary and rough men as he saw before him.   
  
It seemed almost fated luck for orphan Rohan to be the one passing the rebel General's war band this night, since as they neared Calais the blood thirst and restlessness that she had sought in her soldiers began to manifest stronger with each step. The general was a canny woman, and though the wandering orphan's eyes looked hungrily over the great spread of tents and fires with the thoroughness of a buzzard before a battlefield, he saw no weapons, no armor, not even a single whetting stone scraping tirelessly at a dinner knife like a dwarvish miner scraped rock for gems.   
  
Several times Roahn's resolve to avoid people wavered as he sucked at the dry corner of his kindly given traveling bread. He strode through the woods like a racoon, the trees' innocent thief, unworried and daring and innocent, only wary of a wary predator, growing ever neared the bonfire closest the woods. He quietly stuffed the last of his bread into his cheek and worked it into softness as he reached the barest edge of his cover. He could feel the heat from the flickering firelight, and the nervous absence of life from this very small portion of the forest as he reached out to brush aside the last of the branches in his path.   
  
He heard a chitter in the trees and halted, glancing up at an actual racoon sitting up in the branches of the tree beside him. It cocked its head, black eyes alight with borrowed firelight, and stared at him. Rohan felt a spasm in the small of his back and lowered his face, letting his hand fall back a small way as horrible doubts and memories flooded past him, crippling his momentary bravery with ashamed fear. Just as his hand dropped back from the curtain of leaves before him, he hear the unnatural crash of an arrow whipping past the chittering racoon, who gazed curiously out towards the campsite before bounding away through the branches. Seized by the same instinct as the racoon, Rohan stepped away from the forest edge and heard a guffaw, before another arrow whizzed past his hip and into a tree. Quickly he ducked back, taking to an animalistic crouch and staring towards the camp.   
  
"Almost got that une, blighted thing. Woulda made a fancy meat 'pon th' spit, eh?"   
  
"'jou'd think, but na, they don' make as good a meal as ya think."   
  
The voices came close, but nowhere near the forest.   
  
"'Sa shame ya let th'arrows go like that, though, ya ain' gonna get me near tha gen's tent. They's a lost bunch."   
"'Tis her tent, iddin't it? Damn, me, if she wouldn' be all th' hot kinds of mad if she saw that."   
  
Rohan didn't care to be shot at anymore than he had to, and as much as he knew of slang and curses and the words of drunken men, he could not not understand what the shooters were saying. He left their conversation and crept quietly towards the shadow that the nearby tent cast on the already dark forest and crouched there, listening for signs of total abandonment.   
As he listened with sharp, tuned ears, he heard nothing but the fading of the earlier conversation and an absolute sort of silence that only occurs when the animals have left the forest.   
  
And then, he heard a quiet, deep laugh.   
  
He tensed, listening carefully, and heard it again along with an indeterminate rustling. A few impassioned moments later, he the pleasured sound of someone meeting flesh with flesh and blushed to his ears, almost losing his balance as he resisted the instinct to run away in proper modesty. He heard again the laugh, definitely effeminate, definitely occupied.   
For a few moments he listened in embarrassed silence, then the sound stopped, and there came the ambiguous rustling again, before a quiet and clear voice,   
  
"we will see battle tomorrow. Noin won't know what hit her quiet soldier's town. Her camp will barely be erected before we're there. We will secure our freedom, darling."   
  
The voice was impassioned and female, though hardly like any he'd heard before. It was...possessed, and though there was no response from whoever her companion was, she continued almost as if they'd spoken,   
  
"Yes, a secure camp tonight. I can hardly wait, you know, hardly wait at all."   
  
He spied carefully and managed to watch the silhouettes showing through the tent dimly and stretched into deformity, but still valuable. What he saw confused him, and the conversation confused him more, but was there for him to do? He heard only the loudest parts of their conversation. He scooted forward slowly, inch by inch, to try and listen. He knew the soldier's town. It was where he was supposed to pass the night, but the delays on the road would prevent him from reaching there when he was supposed to the next afternoon. They must be close, but why so many people traveling so quickly towards it? The way he understood it the soldier's town was a small, unpretty place, not worth much of a stop except for a night at a good tavern and inn.   
  
Slowly, his creeping eavesdropping brought him to the edge of the forest, where he saw a lump of shadow that hadn't moved since he'd first started watching form into a standing man and shrink oddly out of sight. He waited, tensed for a moment like a dog on it's haunches, ready to run, until he was certain the shadow wasn't coming around to drag him from the forest, then slowly came forward until he was just at the base of the tent, and the quiet, confident woman's voice wavered back into hearing range, barely above a whisper.   
  
"I'll have it, and then, to the castle," there came a small laugh, "And long live the king, but can anyone else manage to outrun me?"   
  
The laugh came again, loudly this time, and so disturbing that Rohan started out of his half crouch and turned to run for the forest. Unfortunately, he was stopped before he'd even taken a step by a silent, stolid figure clothed in the blackness of the night. He felt himself begin to shake, but calmed it, staring up into calm, dark eyes. 


	11. Chapter 11

Duo stared at a pair of icy blue eyes that regarded him with as much calm as he could stand. He was filthy, and room was rapidly heating from the hot bath Milliardo had ordered drawn for him. As he stared at the count, Duo felt little twinges of malignance and malice rise in his chest, and held them down. There was no reason to yell at the noble.  
  
"but I'm not taking any bath!"  
  
Milliardo held his gaze in a patient wait that was staring to make Duo nervous. He didn't even fidgit. What was this man made of!?  
  
"Mrs. Maya. Please make sure he is clean."  
  
Milliardo turned just as Duo felt a soft arm on his arm. He whirled to see a short plump woman smiling at him sweetly and talking in a constant mellow voice,   
  
"Come now, dear, we'll get you all washed up and clean, just like the Lord said, now come on, let's get in the tub..."  
  
Duo pulled and turned to Milliardo, mentally cursing the sneaky bastard. The lady's grip suddenly became viselike and she seized both his arms, turning him around and clucking to her assistants to help. Duo felt suddenly beseiged by a kindly old woman. She reached forward and hooked her finger in his collar, pulling down until all the buttons popped off. Dou glared at her happy, smiling face and tried to free himself, but the tiny woman quickly hefted him off his feet. He caught his breath in wonder, and she easily swung him around and dumped him in the nearly scalding water,  
  
"now, then honey, we'll get you all cleaned, just like Lord Peacecraft has asked, and be a good dear and get clean..."  
  
Duo yelped and one of the helpers seized his braind and began to undo it, while another poured a bucket of water over his head, leaving him sputting and breathless, and even a third dumped a bar of soap into the water. Mrs. Maya rolled up her sleeves, he smile still fixed, and kneeled next to the tub, plucking out the soap and beginning to scrub it against a long handled brush that looked like it would be better fit for scrubbing rust off of chain mail.  
  
Another bucket of water was poured over Duo's head and his gaping jaw caught a hefty mouthful. Mrs. Maya gave the brush one last scrub and the helper finished his braid and stood away, picking up a towel. Duo spit out the water and looked at her.  
  
"Did...you say Peacecraft?"  
  
She smiled at him and leaned against the edge of the tub, brush weilded like a one handed barbarian club.   
  
Duo gulped and forgot his questions for a moment. He didn't like the look on her face at all.  
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Heero sat again in silence, cursing, cursing, cursing. Why had he run? What was the point? There was no where to go. He could not escape this stupid room, or that strange boy by backing into a corner like some frightened child! He could see in the mirror dark hair flung down over stormy, resolute eyes, and wondered remotely if that was how other people really saw him. Was that how the other boy had seen him? He cursed and cursed and cursed again inside his head, the top of his fist covering his mouth to stop himself from saying anything out loud. It wasn't that he actually needed the gesture anymore, no he had perfected that particular control over himself long, long ago; it was he felt some obscure...feeling after seeing that boy walk in. Half of his mind screamed at him that he hadn't seen the boy, nothing was there, and it hadn't existed, and the other half was raving mad that any of it had happened at all. If it had happened. No, it had, it definitely had. But what if it hadn't? Wasn't he going mad? Wasn't he going to loose himself to the sickness like his father had? That thought shook his perfect countenance and a grim surprise flickered over his face for a single breath. He stood, making the chair jump back, and resumed putting his fist over his lips standing up, his other arm wrapped around his chest. Something was wrong, but he was muddled. That boy had done something, caused something, been the result of something, had nothing to do with anything? He wanted to pace, even felt the muscles twitch, but he would not. He knew something now that would please Lady Po to know. The wall mirrors were doorways, which meant there were secret hallways, which could mean many things for Heero, but the list of possibilities was much smaller than it had been before. This discovery settled him, and he found himself maybe even wanting to sit down again. It made him feel more at home, like General Noin were here to discover the truth. It calmed him immensely, took away his thoughts. After all, deep down they were all tacticians, and all that went on was merely tactics.  
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Treize turned up his face, lying back in his chair, and rested his hand upon it. He remained in this position even as he heard Milliardo's soft steps on the rugs as he quietly shut the door behind himself. The room was dark; hardly a single shaft of light ever touched upon the thick wall to wall scarlet rugs Treize had ordered placed inside upon the room's discovery. Milliardo stood out in the cool gloom like a swan on a lake in the new moon. Ever somber the noble waited for Treize to speak, a trait so rare he would award it honors if the act of rewarding wouldn't destroy the trait's worth. He pondered still, staring at the dark ceiling, in which on his long accustomed eyes could see the patterns of stone. He took a deep breath and turned slowly, and Milliardo began his address. Before he could speak, Treize's voice interrupted like a chilled current in river,   
  
"I grow tired of waiting."   
  
Milliardo stared at him surprise. His impatience was not totally unexpected, but nor was is convenient or easy to manage. Treize took his hand away form his face and sat up to look at him. Milliardo tried to speak again, but was silenced.   
  
"You know I only care for one thing in this, Milliardo. You know that."   
  
He shut his eyes and steepled his fingers in front of his face,   
  
"this is dirty business."   
  
Milliardo only nodded, unfathomable words passing between them with darkness their conduit. Treize stilled again like a sighing statue, and Milliardo bowed, turning slowly and walking out as softly as he had walked in.   
  
  
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Heero stood for a few long moments outside of his door, thinking. Sluggishly, his mind began to push up coherant blurbs of thought. He knew his face must look as if it was all a big bother, but he wondered if it was just Noin and Lady Po who could tell. The soldiers back at the castle...  
  
No.  
  
He had to think.  
  
He glanced in each direction down the long white hallway and decided to go left. He knew, somehow, that if that other boy had not wanted to stay in the wing of the castle to the right, then he would not want to go. Yet. He turned, feeling as stiff as his clothing, and walked down the hallway with even, measured paces. He didn't know why he was leaving his room, other than he didn't want to be there. He didn't know why...he didn't know what...he wanted to know... his mind became confusion again and he resisted the urge to rest his head in his hands until the buzzing went away. He shoved all the thoughts away and got down to the thought which was necessary to his destination. He wanted to find that boy, and question him. There was something similar between them; he could tell. There was some reasoning behind it, certainly. And He would not stay in the room that King Treize had assigned him. He had his own addenda to follow for the moment. He would follow it.  
  
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oi, editing editing editing! I should've been more careful! This chapter made less sense than it should have becuase it was missing a hefty chunk. that's not to say that it makes very mcuh sense right now, but still, it's better than it was. I'm sorry about that, spirits, but you know how it goes.  
  
Go Well, Spirits!  
  
Kitten 


	12. Chapter 12

In her mind, Noin had buried her face in her hands and cried at the death of the assassin.   
  
She had only been a little girl, that assassin, that killer of the mighty.  
But She had been willing or deluded into ending her own life for the sake of someone Noin was going to come to know very well.  
  
On the battlefield  
  
Standing before her soldiers, Noin's dark eyes narrowed with burning determination. She raised her arm, her hand reluctantly gloved in rough white that glared in the sun as brightly as a pearl flocked swan. Her face was grim, her features set into a hard mask. Where normal generals would warm their men up with speeches and reassurances, she said nothing. All that could be said had been said long before. They understood her. She held their attention in iron.   
  
They had all seen the children on their way to the castle for shelter, finding their parents old company mates, or shield bearers and telling them the news of Calais, the soldier's town. A few of them had even taken up arms, and offered to fight alongside their father's or brother's old war companions. Noin stared at each of her soldiers in turn.   
  
All she expected of them was to be as brave as children.  
  
  
Her hand raised like a banner, then dropped sharply. She turned, and they began the final march to Calais.  
  
To free their friends.  
  
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She danced. She ran and sang and spun circles in the flickering scarlet and gold light like the demon of dying sun. Her lover was beside her, sword drawn, black hair and white clothing making flashing, alternating, streaks in the firelight beside her as he followed the dim scarlet gleam of his blood soaked scimitar through the melee that surrounded her. She laughed, a harsh joyful sound amidst the burning, bleeding town. She watched her lover push through another of her enemies before her, causing the poor man to emit a scream that nearly drew tears from her eyes. The scimitar whipped in a garnet crescent around her to impale another soldier and she brushed his sodden white clothing, smearing herself. Her laugh rose to a hysterical pitch and she threw her hands up in supplication to the burning skies.   
  
"Look what a night's travel has gotten us! A night's travel!"   
  
Her lover took a final look around the blazing devastation then took her in his blood cooled arms and pulled her arms down to her side as she laughed. She felt the splatter still against her cheek after her lover had slaughtered two townsfolk before them. Harsh tears spilled from her eyes in hysteric exuberance before she stepped out of her lover's hold and set her hands on her hips, surveying the work her army had done on the town. Mockingly she thought of the 'difficulty' and 'preparation' she was told to plan for when assaulting this town. It was true her vanguard had wet the fields with their lifeblood before they had even reached a pave stone, but it was a simple sacrifice to make.   
Around her, her soldiers eliminated the last of the resistance, chasing down running men and women in the streets, and assaulting the final stronghold of the town, appropriately, a tavern in which a stubborn few had taken refuge and were determined to protect. A scream echoed in her ears, and her smirk never twitched. Her lover wiped his bloodstained sword on his shirt and fell in silently at her side. She stared at the conflict, her soldiers struggling with the resistance even as the tavern began to catch fire like the rest of the buildings around it. She strode forward, towards the rapidly catching building, raising her voice in a frightening hail to the madly fighting townsfolk. Her lover followed quietly, his dark eyes resting on the ground before them like gems set in a face of living stone. The failing strength of the few inhabitants left soared for the brief moments before she began to order her troops forward. The fire began to win it's battle with the people inside the tavern, their forces were too split between it and her soldiers. As the dark mercenaries broke through, they slaughtered those who sought shelter as easily as those who surrendered and those who fought. She stared with satisfaction from the edge of the flames, and felt a cool breeze into her from where her lover would usually be standing. He was gone. She looked back at the flames, her lips closed in a quiet smile.  
  
  
  
The town of Calais was no more.  
  
  
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AN: almost forgot to do the author's note! Wheee!! *dances the review dance* How could I forget to thank you guys for reviewing! Thanks Elle-FaTe2x1! *is a lazy-butt*, I will do my best to update regularly. And Thanks to Diane: I'm glad you like it so far. *sighs* I hope Duo and Heero come out alright too...*smiles* Anyway, I humbly praise you, spirits, and commend your courage if you enjoyed -this- chapter. *sighs* what can I say, it was late.  
  
May the breeze always be behind you, spirits!   
Unless your mount has just fertilized the road...  
  
Kitten 


	13. Chapter 13

Heero had, at first, stalked purposefully down the hallways, headed west down endless white corridors and gilded pictures. Now, he stalked purposefully, but his focus was slightly different. It was not that he had managed to get himself lost, he could always find his way back using relative approximations and cardinal direction at least fairly accurately, it was more that he had lost his purpose. He knew he was looking for the boy that had barged into his room, and he knew why, but he feared the confrontation.   
  
He would recall previous times when something as such had happened, and the yelling, the offense, the intensity, and once, the beating. He hadn't meant to instigate the injury of another person, but it happened, because of a few careless words said to the wrong man. Bitterly he thought of the occasion, wondering what had possessed him to admit something so foolishly. He should have known not to tell him, but no, he had thought maybe, maybe it would be something to bring them together...   
  
Instead, Heero had been forced to watch the poor kind servant beaten in a mild drunken fit. He shook his head sadly in remembrance. He had been shocked, horrified, to see what was done, and the speech of the rights of the nobility afterwards had further disgusted him. Of course, he had run to Noin, asked her to tell him it wasn't true. She had told him it was. Noin was blunt. Heero liked that, but it did not help him regain the trust of the servant. Heero shook his head, shutting his eyes to ward away images that only became clearer in the darkness. Focusing, he banished them. He did not want this to happen with this boy he was looking for. He had no illusions that the boy was nobility, but even as he thought that, he felt a nagging doubt. He could not jump to such conclusions so early.   
  
The fact that the boy had been freely wandering those hidden passages, marked with the secret royal crest on the inside was evidence enough for doubt(Heero had taken the liberty of breaking into another guest suite, reluctant to revisit his own, and had examined the connecting passage within). It was a careful doubt too.   
  
He paused, finally reaching another of the long junctures this endlessly beehived castle seemed to be fond of, and glanced down the lengthy-to-the-point-of-illusion-inspiring hallways. It was slightly disheartening to wander this castle. It was almost baffling to think that beyond each never-ending hallway was another secret passage. He wondered if it had all really been necessary at some point.   
  
Realizing he had been caught standing in the hallways for longer than he needed, he chastised himself and tried to decide which way to go. He gave each turning a glare of its own, evaluating which direction would be most effective. The fact that he hadn't found the boy he was looking for, while not unsurprising, was inauspicious. Suddenly, he caught a flash of strange color out of the corner of his eye. He flinched imperceptibly and stared down the hall to his left. Was he correct in what he'd seen? He put hand to his eyes, and lowered it quickly.   
  
A nude woman?   
  
No, clothed...A boy in a dress...a boy in a dress?   
  
A girl in a suit, maybe, a girl...a girl in a dress?   
  
But that made perfect sense!   
  
He realized how ridiculous that thought had been and resisted the urge to clench his fist, staring intently down the hallway. He paused, a familiar taunting laugh filling his skull with drumming contempt. He blinked again, telling himself he really had seen it. The laugh grew louder until he blocked it out with a fearsome blot of anger and resumed his steps down the hall in question. It didn't matter what he'd seen. This was the likely direction to go anyway, he convinced himself. He was looking for the boy. He would find him.   
  
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Duo's breath came in quick, irritated gasps. He felt like spitting up water until he cleared his system of that vicious froth the maid had forced him to swallow in her sadistic cleaning ritual. True, if he had sputtered less, he might not have swallowed so much water, but at this point, all that mattered was the nasty, waxy, soapy taste in the gullet.   
  
Well, he admitted to himself, stealing a glance around the doorframe he was currently hidden behind, that and the stalking noble he had intruded upon earlier. It was getting weird the way it seemed to noble was following him. Duo had taken several twists in the honeycombed hallways that he thought were clever only to find that the noble boy thought they were too. Obviously there was either something wrong with Duo's evasive skills or there was something seriously wrong with this noble kid.   
  
Hell, he could tell anytime when someone was following a guy on purpose, and by the look on this guy's face, he had some weird, all encompassing purpose that effectively blocked out anything and everything else.   
  
Dressed only in a fluffy white towel cloth and his Godiva length hair, he felt more than a little under prepared to deal with some pissy noble brat following him like a puppy smelling bacon at the moment. After getting so many strange vibes from Treize himself, Duo wondered if any of such a king's nobility could be normal. It wasn't as if Goosey was a real wildly average guy.   
  
He stole a glance around the corner again and breathed a sigh of relief; the noble seemed to have refocused, and it didn't seem to be on him. At least, that was the impression that he got from those slightly vacant blue eyes. Duo wondered idly if it was a noble thing to have blue eyes, or if it was just coincidence that Treize, Milliardo, and this boy all had the strange blue thing going on. Duo remembered the one kid at the orphanage who had been albino, with strange pink eyes, and smiled. He bet that no one else had purple eyes.   
  
He stole one last glance at the noble, who walked down his hallway at this very instant. Luckily, Duo could tell that the intensity in his eyes was focused on some point beyond reality, meaning that even if he did see Duo, he doubted he would really be "seen". He had a feeling the noble wouldn't believe himself anyway. He hadn't spent his years growing up around a bunch of rowdy nudist orphans. Grinning, he sprinted down the hallway from eave to hanging to shadow, innumerable steps ahead of the noble, aiming for the most circuitous route he could find to his room. It was getting cold in this stupid towel.  
___________________  
  
  
The road was as dark and anonymous as the ink in the air. The two traveling in the bracing gale soaked in the blackness around them as if they were part of road itself, two parchment paper images sunken in ink and stuck to the bleak portrait of the landscape. They shivered beneath their cloaks, but the prospect of wind without rain heartened them, a hope as bare and treasured as a clean bone to starving dog. They were in sight of another town, another inn to stop in, another place to rest. It was only a matter of braving the dangerous forest road to reach the town in safety. The trees of the great woods loomed just over their path on the left, while the barrenness of man-made fields tackled by stout wilderness spread on their right. A number of skeletal wagons stood in the ditch by the side of the road, a sign of danger of greedy highwaymen. Of course, all the threatening, boasting, and cursing of a whole band of footpads would do little but warm their bones, and the appearance of such a group was only guaranteed to disturb them if the freezing wind didn't kill them before they were truly vulnerable to robbery. As always, the two figures staggered forward, only aware of sickness and their final destination. The figure who stood more poignantly silently towards the forest often stumbled, but now, stumbled and placed his hand over his heart, lifting the rags swathed about his head as if he were wont to look at the sky. The taller figure gave him a glance, but continued onward, his arms wrapped around himself in meager protection. The pile of brown rags stumbled forward and shuffled to his place at the tall one's side again, shaking his head. The tall one favored him with another glance, but said nothing still, rubbing his arms for heat. The rags pulled in again, and a voice barely on par with the howl of the wind croaked from the tall one's throat, "They've met."  
  
_*_*_*_*_*_**_*_*_  
  
AN: Whaddya think? It was about time for Duo/Heero/etc. part anyways, though it was tempting to move on to the next bit of the war. Although this bit didn't answer any questions or prgress the plot much or anything of that kind and beneficial nature, it was a bit fun to think of Duo and Heero chasing each other around the castle, I suppose. I have some nifty bits coming up I believe, but it's going to get a bit involved after this(again, I think it will, I'm not sure...). I don't like making trowa speak the unnecessary, so...*shrug* the voice comes from where you will. Diane, thanks for a ll the feedback! I havn't really proven much about Treize's leadership, but you'll see plenty of that later on*grin*. As for the good and evil...I hope you stick around for the end of the story! And I just have one thing for you to think about: Is it Dorothy?  
  
As ever, my spirits, I listen to your call,  
Kitten 


	14. Chapter 14

Duo growled amidst the downy softness of his newly washed and dried clothes. He stood in the room he had been given upon his first day in the palace. Though more often than not, his only efforts were to avoid being anyplace that could be easily guessed as his location, it was unavoidable this time if he wanted to wear his clothes again. Call him overcautious, but he called it brains.   
  
It was all stupid anyway. He had nearly broken his neck running from the eerily bloodhound-like noble kid, only to nearly skid into a private party for Milliardo and the King. The shiver of fear that had run through him as he stood before the darkened, secret, doorway was enough to freeze him in place. The half-heard words about waiting and necessity had filled him with strange foreboding He remembered himself sliding and scrambling away like a beaten puppy, his wet skin making minuscule squeaking noises on the smooth floor.   
  
And now, he was fuming, mad at nothing he could pinpoint other than himself, and that just made him more angry. He clouted the wall with his fist and felt the calloused skin of his knuckles split just shy of drawing blood. What was he waiting around this stupid palace for anyway? He threw down the towel they had given him to finish drying his hair and it nearly knocked over a chair. Duo watched it teeter and half hoped it would fall, knowing the very annoyance of it would cause him to commit greater violence on the rest of the room and its stupid mirrored walls. A small part of his more sensible mind gave a sigh of relief as it thumped back onto four legs, crooked, but standing.   
  
It seemed to cause the anger to blow out of him. He picked up the leather thong he used to tie his hair and stuck it in his mouth, finding some relief in the rough familiar flavor. He reached back to braid his hair and thought of how out of place it and he was in the castle.   
  
Everything was out of place. It was as if the whole castle really belonged to someone else, and they were just borrowing it. Like the conversation he overheard hadn't really fit either. Who else in this castle could be waiting, anyway? Not the man he had run from for all of an hour. The creepy noble kid seemed intent enough upon chasing Duo around to be satisfied.   
Briefly, panic shot through him as he gathered his thoughts a little more efficiently. Could it be that the noble was just a distraction? That choking bath, the hour long chase, his forced re-entry into his room all smacked of suspicious conspiracy. And if he really wasn't the only one in the castle that was waiting...there was trouble.   
  
Lots of trouble.   
  
The trouble that woke sleeping gods.   
  
He stood, pensively tying the thong around the end of his braid and swinging it behind him again. One thing he knew, was that he wasn't staying in a room with any mirrored walls anymore, and he wasn't going down any dark hallways if he could avoid it.  
________  
  
  
The smell of blood was in the air. It washed across the field in waves of sooty black that chocked the soldiers and killed crops. It was an odd mixture of blood, flesh, and overcooked meat over hickory fires. The smoke that rolled across the fields tainted and touched everything, nearly breaking her lines of soldiers, and causing her shined white gloves to turn an foul grey. Noin stared down at her hands, chocking back her rage and anguish. She was left with a horrible, calm, disgust and wonder as the ashes gathered in heaps around her. Her soldiers brushed it off their shields and armor, cleared it from the wagons' wheels. Some of them retched alone, the morning's hard breakfast going to waste on the bitter, defiled ground. A few more wept loudly, in groups. Noin felt like weeping. She wanted to rip off her gloves, tear across the field bare handed and rescue her friends from their own ashes. As if she could run and pile them into people again. Instead she stared in blank wonderment, coldness creeping through her bones like crystallized honey. Her tightly covered emotions caused a faint, tinny ringing in her ears that she was certain did not come from the assembling lines of armored demons across the grassy hill in front of her. She turned back to her lines and raised her arm, but her soldiers were already preparing. They blew the dirt of each other and crushed the singed crops beneath their feet. They heaved their fellows to their feet and began to arrange themselves in neat lines. Noin felt the cold breeze at her back and her hair blew forward to obscure her view of the proceedings. She felt a grim warmth spread in her chest and resisted the urge to abandon herself to a rueful grin. Those men who stood before them would die. Her friends would be avenged.   
  
________________  
  
The blonde general stood before her troops on the still smoldering remains of what could have been a wagon or a cottage. The chill wind whipped across her face, stinging and biting at the exposed and lightly clothed portions of her body. She stood triumphantly, giving her enemy plenty of time to prepare for her assault, a wicked smile on her face. Her soldiers were grim and leering, twitching, ready, eager for the fight. She wanted them to be antsy. It made for a fast beginning and better end. Jittery troops either killed faster or were killed faster. It didn't really matter, as long as they killed. Her grin spread a little, her jaw ached with cold and the muscles in her face wanted to twitch as she forced them hold. Her lover stepped quietly up to the side of her smoldering perch and said nothing, his sword strapped to his side with streaks of blood still on it. She would wonder why he had not cleaned it, but the upcoming battle was far too exciting for her to be distracted with trivial details, no matter how important they might become. His clothing was streaked with the blood of her enemies as well, and her twisted images of him gave her voice new fury,   
  
"Soldiers!"   
  
Her voice turned mocking, "Fight to craft our peace! Peace where those that go before us will tremble, and those that come after us with grovel in the dirt!"   
  
She laughed at the shining, leering mercenary faces and turned back to her enemy, throwing her hand forward,   
  
"Attack!"  
  
*************  
  
  
AN: Sorry about the wait guys, but I was having a bit of a busy time. I hope you like this part, I had meant it to be much larger. It has a bit of an awkward shift that I've been trying to avoid, going from Duo to the generals, but I hope it wasn't too distracting. This part seems far to awkward for me... I may change it later. Tell me one thing, would you rather have a longer wait for a longer part, or keep taking them in smaller incriments like this? I am a little dissatisfied with this one *sigh*, but I hope I got the idea across.   
  
good luck, my spirits.  
  
Kitten 


	15. chapter 15

Left.   
  
Step Right.   
  
Slash.   
  
Swirl. Smoke.   
  
About, face the enemy charge.   
  
Again? How can they charge so many tiring times?   
  
Clash, the bang of steel. The rough gritty face before her singed and grinning like a broken marionette, his jaw fixed by an ugly break and painted with scarlet. Their steel met inches before their bodies did; she had to brace herself in the mud against his weight. Throw him back with a single arm and slash with the other. A flash and he's gone, and she must face the challenge to her side.   
  
Noin held her face in her blackened gloves and recalled every excruciatingly confusing step of the battle. Up, Up, Up it seemed they had charged into the heart of a bloodthirsty barbarian army. Incoherent battle cries mingled with sounds too horrible to recognize and too familiar to note. Up and Up again. Charge Charge, why must the charge against her? Why were they like so many portions of wave, crashing against one another in the darkest kind of night there was. The night of a general's soul when battle was fought for senseless, stupid causes.   
  
Like a monarch's imagined honor.   
  
Like some fool notion of protest.   
  
It wasn't those who were the figureheads that fought, it was -her- soldiers. Even in Naval battles the ship's figurehead was used as a battering ram, a tool. But this was land war. It was her army that died. Her army that was bashed against the rocks of defense, that melted into the confused clouds of blood as offense met offense. It was her boys they killed, and not some random village idiot or simpering nobleman's son. The day had long died since any monarch sent his own son into honorable battle as anything less than a general. Less than a general as Noin had been, and was, even though she had clawed her way through the ranks to meet that impassable barrier that was...  
  
that was no more than this man before her.   
  
Slice, gash, blood. A sword through the heart for him. The mercenary grimaced at her, his face inches away, even as she yanked her sword from his chest. And him, she thought as she turned to another mercenary expecting to skewer her from the side. Slash. His head rolled backward, a partially broken spine the only thing holding it on. He fell to his knees, and then forward into the dirt. She smiled and charged forward.   
  
Upward, upward, Charge. No barrier was impassible.   
  
Nothing since...him.  
  
_____  
  
Heero stared. Stared like he always did when something was going on that he didn't want to deal with. His thoughts were elsewhere, his mind occupied with things far above this petty...  
  
"Dress, Heero! For the sake of...of...of something will you get up and dress properly?"   
  
Lady Po glared at him, her normally soft voice reaching the rare point of threshold volume. She never actually yelled.   
  
"If I hadn't spent half this last five hours tearing around the hallways looking for you'd I'd be able to debrief you on what's going on!"   
  
'Debrief,' Heero stood and began the laborious process of removing the outer vestments he had on now, 'There she goes revealing herself again.'   
  
If Lady Po ever had admitted to him that she used to be a woman like Noin, he would not have been surprised. As it was, she didn't, so he still wasn't. He wondered if he should act surprised when the time came.   
  
"What do you think you've been doing wandering around this castle? You may not have realized it, but it's as dangerous for you these days as it is for the king."   
  
He nodded, muttering an apology and pretending he needed to focus on his buttons. She frowned at him even as he ignored her and gave up her pursuit of his attention for the moment. Heero only notice dit was easier to forget her voice than usual as she helped him change. His mind was solely on the long haired boy, and what he was doing in the castle. Heero had been strictly educated in the courtiers, and other castle layabouts, but he had not registered the presence of a boy that looked like a woman. If he really was a castle regular, or irregular, he would need to report him to Po. However, he found himself reluctant to speak on the matter with her. It wasn't just that he'd gone on a white stag chase after the elusive figure all afternoon that kept his mouth from working properly, it was that he wasn't certain it was any of his interest. If he started to appear jumpy around Lady Po, she would be concerned for his safety, and take him home, in spite of the king, if she could. With a wince he realized that he didn't want to go home, not yet. Or, maybe, not ever. He wanted to see Noin again, and the others, he supposed, but he could live his life without seeing the castle again. He didn't want to think about it. He would miss his library, but it was meager compared to the castle library. He held still while Lady Po pulled off his vest perhaps a little more roughly than usual. It was also odd, but, he realized, he didn't really enjoy the castle library either. Something about it made him uneasy. Maybe it was the ghostlike noble who lingered like a late melting snow near the library at all times, the one they called Milliardo. He recalled Po speaking about him. Rumored to be the old King's doxy, Milliardo was almost disgraced out of court, but instead he had thrived as an advisor from the shadows. Still, none of this answered his questions about the boy with the long hair, who seemed, most peculiarly, to have no qualms with running through the castle naked...   
  
"Heero! Attention up."   
  
His head snapped up and the room focused. Lady Po had gotten him dressed already. He stepped down from his perch on a small rococo ottoman and blinked at her, his eyes filling with shame for no reason other than that she stared at him.   
  
"I want to see your best manners here, Heero, the King has asked council with you. It's not likely you'll be alone, but every move you make will be watched, no matter how many people there are in attendance."   
  
Heero nodded, mumbling some response so automatically it didn't even register in his own thoughts. He turned them back to the mystery. Lady Po watched those blue eyes go unmistakably vacant again, and pity cracked her demanding mask. She straightened his coat and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders, realizing sooner or later any odd behavior would pull him from the deep mire of his own mind. She felt her heart breaking and pushed him towards the door, protectively guiding him there for no reason other than it was something the anal retentive 'Lady Po' would do for poor sweet 'Heero Yuy'. She almost felt tears in her eyes, but banished them, knowing there was no reason to shed tears for the internally strong, no matter how weak they tried to appear to be. Even as he spoke an empty good bye to her, she saw his lips move with some unheard soliloquy. She watched him until it did her no more good to do so, then walked in the room and slammed shut the door, falling against it and holding her forehead. Times were hard and dangerous, and Heero Yuy couldn't afford to spend his time chasing orphans around the castle halls.   
  
_____  
  
  
Noin cradled her head in her hands as she poured over the minutely detailed maps on the soot blackened table before her. She angrily brushed a chunk of errant ash from a perfectly inked hillock and growled at it for interrupting the calculations she was supposed to be making, but hadn't managed to even begin. The battle was too hopeless to be saved. It was a classical general's nightmare, no advantage could be gained on the terrain, no time for elaborately planned tactics could be made, no minute adjustments in the lines would be felt, and no technological difference between forces could be engineered in the time they had. It was the ocean fighting against itself again. Both sides were forced to simply crash men against men in waves until one side or the other was entirely eliminated. Noin slammed her fist on the maps, feeling her face grow hot. Her soldiers could not be saved. A field general scooted nervously to her side and reached to tap her shoulder. She whirled on him before the poor man's hand had even retreated, her own hand gripping her sword hilt.   
  
"How could you interrupt me at such an important junction in planning? Can't you see the maps? If I need your assistance, soldier I would have called for you by name, you understand? Did you hear your name called? I don't remember saying it, Lieutenant Jenks! Did those words pass from my lips, sir?"   
  
The general cowered before her, literally, his face behind one hunched shoulder and his leg raised before him like a defensive barrier. She glared and a ponderous silence hung between them like a hill of fresh snowfall, cold and fragile. Slowly, his leg lowered and he peered over his shoulder,   
  
"L-Lucr- I-I mean...General...Noin..."   
  
She intensified her glare for almost saying her name, realizing full well that he'd have to change armor after having come so close to soiling himself. He blinked, realizing the only thing shorter than her temper at this moment was his time,   
  
"I have something you m-might be interested in...ther-there's a...a...."   
  
Noin growled, "A what you stuttering grunt? Do I have the entire day to waste chatting with you?"   
  
He shook his head frantically, "No, sir! I-nevermind, ma'am. I have someone you might be interested in seeing, ma'am!"   
  
She blinked, smiling sweetly, "And what might this be, Jenks? A parcel of cookies from your mother?"   
  
He flushed, "N-no, ma'am...it's just...I wasn't sure...it's hard to believe."   
  
"Spit it out before I demote you to less than mud, grunt!"   
  
Jenks finally nodded, and shrugged to himself and clasping his charm necklace for luck. He stepped to the side as a particularly bad storm of ash swept past them in the bitter wind. Noin shut her mouth, and shielded her eyes. She spit after it when the wind passed. She lowered her hand and look at where Jenks had been standing. Looking back at her, reeking of blood and fire, was a small, dark haired boy, holding a wrapped parcel. Her mind unreasonably fled to her comment about cookies before she could ground it enough to take in details of the stranger. The darkness on him wasn't just the soot, both his hair and eyes were black as the first night, but his clothing was torn nearly to the point of being impossible to repair, it hung so loosely on his slight frame. His shoulders were powerfully built, but she could tell it was from no sword wielding. She blinked at him, and he stared back, dark eyes shining mistrustfully. He extended his arms, bearing the package across his blackened hands, to her, and fixed her with an unblinking stare,   
  
"a friend of mine told me to give this to you, and said that you would understand."   
  
Noin blinked and reached for the package, but her sensed reacted before she could and her hand recoiled. She reached brusquely and threw off the cover, revealing a shined saber with a streaks of rust colors across it that could only be one thing on this battlefield. The boy seemed to want to drop it, so Noin motioned with her head to her general, who walked forward and took the weapon from him, his look a mystified one. She stared hard at the boy. General Jenks stared at the sword in his hands and spoke softly,   
  
"he came from the enemy camp, sir, but around the back of our own camp. He said he came from the enemy camp."   
  
Noin nodded, giving the sword another uneasy glare. How could she know what it was for?   
  
"Who are you, boy?"   
  
He gave her another suspicious glare, then his mask faltered and he looked more frightened through the brave face he put on, "I'm...Rohan," he muttered, "of the deep woods."   
  
"And where did this sword some from...what is it for?"   
  
He looked up at her with dark eyes again, and shook his head,   
  
"he said you woudl know. And if you didn't, what would happen, would happen without you."  
  
____  
  
  
They stood in the tavern, the green eyed boy bargaining with the keep for better room and board. They were close enough to their goal that he could afford to spend more on their well being, and the health of his companion. The tavern was nearing emptiness, only a few hardened garrison soldiers and hard working farm folk around them. The blonde haired boy was still swathed in his rags, looking around the room from the darkness of his hood like a slave child staring out at those who bargained for him. The green eyed boy's attention was only partially on his bargaining, his words working as automatically as his gestures. As he reached into his pocket and pulled from it the silver he was willing to bargain with, he heard a strangled cry. He turned, his heart freezing as soon as he heard the noise. The motley collection of brown rags shook, and the boy inside let out another anguished cry, forced harshly through his tormented throat. The boy wavered, his breathing suddenly loud and choked, and the green eyed boy soundlessly rushed to his side, making certain he wouldn't fall. He could not reach the blonde haired boy, he pulled away , the hood falling back just enough to reveal his startled, pale face, rimmed with gold and studded with the two bright sapphire eyes. He choked, his hand over his chest and met the green eyed one's gaze. Tears formed in his eyes and he chocked another cry, clutching his heart. Quietly, a weak voice came out,   
  
"The soldier's town...Calais."   
  
Tears ran freely down his face, uncontrollably, as he gritted his teeth, meeting the green eyed boy's gaze.   
  
"It's...the people... it's...no more."   
  
The green eyed boy said nothing. He stared calmly back at the blonde haired boy and they passed a silent conversation. Slowly, the blonde haired boy controlled his breathing, and a the great sadness returned to his eyes. Even as his tears dried, his face grew heavy with sorrow, and the green eyed boy moved forward as he pulled the hood back down to shadow it once more. He looked into the deep darkness of the hood and stood silently next to his companion. When he finally broke the gaze, he saw the keep standing before him bearing tray filled with bread, cheese, grapes and a pitcher of ale. The man's haggard face was grim as he looked at them. The green eyed boy stared at him silently, and saw the other patrons of the tavern standing, staring back at them. The rags shifted as the blonde haired boy retreated further. The keep glanced at the pile of rags, then back to the green eyed boy,   
  
"A prophet."   
  
The green eyed boy concealed his surprise as the man extended the tray towards them. He took it, but still said nothing. The keep sat and looked sincerely at the pile of rags as the others gathered around him, taking weary seats.   
  
"Anyone who can tell us what's happened to Calais, we would be grateful for. Can a prophet spare his time for our likes?"   
The green eyed boy looked back the rags, that shifted to stare back at him. Slowly, the blonde haired boy pulled the hood back and coughed a bloody racking cough to his side, using the rags to clean himself. The others looked at him sympathetically, and the keep offered a chair. He sat down, whispering a thank you in a dry voice. He fixed his blue eyes on them,   
  
"Not a prophet..."  
  
____  
AN:"ARRGGGHHH, Short timed, I'm so sorry this took so long! Really! I hope you guys enjoyed it, I put in a few scene I was doubtful about, but I hope the longer episode is a bit of a compensation for it being so late! grrr...I don't have a lot of time to say much, but I hope you enjoyed, keep the suggestions and guesses coming. I'll give you your own guest spot if you can tell me what's going on with Duo and Treize....heehee  
  
til next time, spirits.  
  
Kitten 


	16. Chapter 16

Heero strode down the stark white halls like the soldier he was supposed to be. His eyes wanted to wander, to search each passed door for the long haired boy that was the packaging for the most problematic mystery he had encountered since he was still pondering the best way to steal pastries from kitchen tables taller than himself. Of course he had solved that problem as soon as he had discovered the hiding place for the carpenter's tools. This time, though, no handily built shelf or ladder would solve the problem.   
  
He let the hallways focus for a moment as he picked the right turn to take at one of the many junctions. It wasn't as if this character was of any real concern. He had audience with the king, and he had no more time to waste thinking about an irrelevant mystery. He straightened his jacket and slowed his pace as he approached the door of the room he had been told to visit. Lady Po had informed him that it wasn't the normal audience chamber, but that was not unexpected due to coincidental redecorating being done in the normal chamber. She had also told him, he recalled as he slowed to stop before the guards flanking the door and gave himself one last look over, that he would likely not be alone. The guard to his left thumped his heel on the floor with an impressive slap and the two moved their doors inward in unison. As Heero's vision expanded, or, rather, narrowed thanks to the peculiar way the doors opened, he realized that this certainly wasn't an ordinary audience chamber. He also noticed that the room was nearly empty.   
  
An abrupt creak from the doors informed him that the guards were shutting them with utmost care behind him, but the isolated noise that escaped the hinges bounced uselessly from wall to wall, sinking slowly back into an uneasy, stifling silence. As he walked he felt as if the warmth crumbled from his body like dead vines on a wall. One glance at the high ceiling told him that maintaining warmth in this room was near impossible without a bonfire directly in the center at all times. He slowly began the long walk towards the single place he could imagine the audience waited. In the far wall of the room a great window or balcony allowed blinding daylight into the otherwise pitch dark room, creating a diffused square of whiteness that brought passages from fantasy to his head.   
  
'As the hero marched forth, through the gates of light...'   
  
Of course, he reasoned, this was usually when the hero had suffered the martyr's death already. He took his steps quietly, now noticing the scarlet rug that stretched outward from the window; a mat set out to greet him, and still no welcoming party.   
  
'...he felt a great peace fall upon his heart...'   
  
He was not aware that he was muffling his own steps, but as he reached the edge of the carpet, and his eyes adjusted to the dissension between the light and the darkness, he noticed that the transition from stone to rug had gone unnoted by even his sensitive ear.   
  
'...breaking the hold of torment and the bonds of living pain...'   
  
Set before him was a small stage of three lowly pieces of furniture. The chairs were made of rich colored wood, simple and small, with decorative carving accentuating the curves of the backs with vines, and the solidity of the legs with lion's paws. Between them sat a table that barely reached his well dressed knees, only distinguishable from an ottoman by its unusual length. It, too, was a simple but decorative piece, but seemed to be darker than the chairs. Or, perhaps it was a lengthy shadow.   
  
"...freeing his soul from the tortures of his enemy, and casting him into heavenly enlightenment through mortal death."   
  
Heero looked up as a dark shadow of more substance passed onto the table, cutting it into sloppy halves. A backlit form with a halo of light approached the table, and stood opposite him, holding a delicate glass of glowing ruby light.   
  
"Lord Yuy, how good of you to come to my audience."   
  
Heero bowed, passing his arm in front of his chest as if he were a paper doll, folding itself in half,   
  
"Your highness."   
  
King Treize stepped forward, his boots brushing the table, and gestured to the left hand chair,   
  
"Please, have a seat."   
  
Heero bowed his head in acknowledgment and walked to the chair, finding that it had a light, flowered cushion both on the seat, and back. He sat, and looked across the table to the King, his face a neutral mask. Treize smiled with delicate rose lips tainted either by wine ro the royal makeup artist,   
  
"Was that Hoeflan's "Dmitrius" I heard you quoting?"   
  
Heero nodded, cursing his slip all the same. When thoughts became words unbidden, trouble followed. Treize smiled fondly and looked up at the ceiling as if it had a portrait painted on it,   
  
"That death could only free him from his enemies' hands was fortune disguised in the deep cloaks of misery. For his death was sacrifice for a cause greater than himself, and with such noble modesty comes the wrath of such souls that are devoted to goodness and righteousness. When good does battle itself, though only good prevails, guilt and doubt do follow after the victors, no matter how clear their path had been. More than one would vanquish the mighty, but he would rise again, a hero for soldiers' souls when peace would come for them."   
  
Heero nodded, folding his hands over his stomach,   
  
"I believe you left out a part."   
  
The King looked at him sharply, but Heero continued,   
  
"Turning his enemies to his side by his righteousness, he would lead them to a more honorable ideal, though it destroys himself and gives heart to that which is evil."   
  
He paused, "Only the damned may lead the damned."   
  
Treize's smile widened, "Mixing references, Lord Yuy, but an acceptable choice. You are right, I had skipped a line. I should not adjust for what is most pleasing to me."   
  
Heero nodded, trying to observe any unusual traits in His Majesty's demeanor. The futility of it vexed him almost as much as the strangeness. He hadn't seen Treize in more than eleven years, and now he was alone in conversation with him at the King's direct request. It appeared to be a private audience after all. Treize sipped his wine and looked out the window before returning his gaze to Heero and making a small gesture,   
  
"Wine?"   
  
Heero shook his head, "No thank you, Your Majesty."   
  
Treize smiled another small, private smile that left no opening for the outside world to share in it.   
  
"Tell me, Lord Yuy, how have things been in your demesnes? It has been very long indeed since you or any of your house have come to the palace."   
  
Heero expected this question, and responded with due civility, "Things go well, Your Highness, but for my sudden absence. We have had a good season for crops and livestock, thanks to the work of the Royal Breeder."   
  
Treize smiled again to himself at some hidden joke and nodded to Heero, "But for your sudden absence of course. Tell me, do you have a great deal of personal involvement with your vassals?"   
  
Heero took a practiced moment to think before he shook his head, "No more than is to be expected when I have yet become of age to fully inherit the duties of my father."   
  
Treize chuckled knowingly, "Ah, yes, the duties of the father."   
  
Having just in recent years inherited the crown from his father, it was expected that Treize would relate to that comment. Heero forced some small gesture that would, in any one else, betray the amusement required when the King decided something was funny. As much as Lady Po had tried to drill his responses into his head, she had given up on his gestures. 'They will always be yours, and not some courtier's conversational frills,' she had told him. Nevertheless, he put forth some effort to appear normal, if rustic, just for her. She wanted him to succeed in this interview, though what succeeding truly was appeared to be some vacant concept that no one could define. As Treize continued asking the questions that Lady Po had predicted, and Heero continued responding with the glaze of normality she had provided him with, Heero found his mind painfully aching for release. Any temporary distraction would do, but he knew he had to keep tabs on what topics the conversation wandered over and meandered past, so that he could report fully to Lady Po.   
A slight headache began to build in the back of his head. He had no mind for politic conversations, and if some sources were to be believed, he had no mind at all. That depressing thought nearly caused him to falter mid sentence with a frown, but fortune had him pull back into the present before any noticeable mistake occurred. Treize politely blathered something back at him. He couldn't imagine why someone would want to be so boring. Heero's mind drifted off again as his headache grew worse with each polite nod. Noin said that he had a mind for tactics. She believed in him. Lady Po frequently served him with tasks beyond his normal skills, so that certainly meant something? But if he was such a tactical genius, then why couldn't he find out what that boy was doing running around the castle?   
  
"I would imagine that large country castle does get boring."   
  
Heero snapped back to reality and realized that he'd been staring into the white window, and hadn't said anything for a good minute. He quickly nodded,   
"I have lessons and duties to keep me busy, Your Majesty."   
  
Treize smiled at him, "Of course, being so far away from court you must have to keep up on politics."   
  
Heero nodded, wondering if Treize knew about the last minute drilling that Lady Po had forced on him in his room. With the secret passages, it was entirely possible, but for what purpose?   
  
"Yes, your Majesty, Lady Po does like to be certain that all news of the kingdom reaches us."   
  
Treize nodded, and Heero saw some small glint in his smile, something that hadn't been there before.   
  
"You must certainly be well up on your facts then. Though I would imagine the distance interferes with the...currency of the news."   
  
Heero knew a more well adjusted person would make some amusing pun at that moment, but he just forced himself to look amused and nodded.   
  
"Distance does prove problematic, but we receive news quickly enough."   
Treize nodded, "Indeed you do. Your response to my call for a visit was almost as quick as if you had already been on your way before I released the courier."   
  
Heero noticed that peculiar look again and shrugged lightly, "We packed and left the day after you called. The general and Lady Po agreed that this urgency was required."   
  
Treize nodded politely again, "Of course."   
  
He glanced at the window once and took another sip of is wine, "I am quite relieved that you're here, but I do wonder why you did not bring the Lady General with you, she is a staple of your entourage and she is much missed by many."   
  
Heero nodded, Lady Po had said he would possibly avoid this subject, but she had also said that it was of utmost importance that he watch carefully for any sign of unusual attention being paid to it. Heero could see nothing significant at this point.   
  
"She asked to be left at home in order to be available for a call to the front."   
  
Treize's oddly sculpted eyebrow shot up, "The front? Surely it is of no worry to your estate as of yet?"   
  
Heero shrugged, relaxed as they reached a topic he was more familiar with, "the front moves with frightening speed and irregularity. Noin said it would be no surprise if we awoke one day to find it on our grounds."   
  
Treize looked away at the window and seemed to suddenly loose much of his lightness. Heero hardly noticed until the silence grew imposing. He wondered about interrupting the royal thoughts, but suddenly Treize slid back to life again,   
  
"Would you say, Lord Yuy, that the front moves with imposing speed? I realize you have told me General Noin's opinions, but I have yet to actually hear yours. Your silence in regards to your own thoughts seems to be...out of character."   
  
Treize smiled at him, but Heero felt distinctly uncomfortable. Not only had Lady Po not drilled him in this line of questioning, she had distinctly informed him that such a question appearing in conversation was against all likelihood. He realized also that silence was not, in fact, out of character for him, but rather the staple of his conversation. I tmade him wonder what he had been blindly saying to the King.   
  
Heero was very distinctly aware that he had two paths along witch to guide this conversation, and both were potentially dangerous to him. However, there was far less danger in discussing the war, than in discussing himself, in case the question of loyalty came up.   
  
"The front does move with frightening speed, Your Majesty, however I see no signs that my opinion will make it move any slower."   
  
Treize smiled appreciatively, "It is unlikely that you would have an opinions differing from hers," he rested his chin on his free hand for a moment, staring at Heero, "But I respect the opinions of tacticians. If the front really is moving as far as you say it is, then perhaps I should be getting more warning from my own Generals."   
  
Heero maintained a noncommittal stance, "I would say that their distance from the actual war would be a hindrance to their judgement, however, it is really a matter personal opinion."   
  
Treize nodded, "Of which you have little to share. I respect a good tactician, Lord Yuy. And I keep their opinions in my mind"   
  
Heero nodded back, unsure of what to make of this change in tone. It was clear that something lurked beneath the surface of the conversation, something he could not recognize at the moment. Treize continued,   
  
"A good tactician will always try to work a situation to his favor, Lord Yuy, and it appears as if things have turned against me. I have come to realize that it appears as if my tactics have worked against me. I am, however, a good tactician, and I have on my side, good tacticians. I believe that I have nothing to fear. The only thing that can conquer now is a weakness from within."   
  
He set down his glass on the short table and sat back, steepling his fingers before his face and staring out the window.   
  
"Something I have come to regard as a threat. It is this kind of backhanded maneuver that I have come to regret. It destroys the beauty of the honorable battle between honorable enemies. However, one must realize that these things happen, or one will be consumed, like our poor Dmitrius." a small smile crept over his face, "I would like you to know, Lord Yuy, that I respect you, however, I must be wary of tools of all shapes. Please consider this. You are dismissed."   
  
For a shocked moment, Heero held perfectly still in the chair, looking at Treize in cold disbelief, however, the King had already begun to stand and stare out the window once again. His position was useless. Heero stood and bowed deeply again, muttering a parting grace and walking for the doors that parted before him like leaves in the face of the wind. He stopped outside the hallway as the doors swung shut behind him and glanced up and down the white corridors. There were no guards. He filed this into his mental report, and turned down the hallway leading back to Lady Po.   
  
  
Stepping softly from his hiding place, Duo Maxwell stared at the retreating nobleman's back for a long, tense moment. Treize had yet to emerge, and he doubted his highness would step foot from that room for another good hour. Duo's stomach was tight with anticipation, but his hands were clear of even a trace of sweat. It was good sign. He moved his fingers slowly to his chest and took the silver cross around his neck into his hand. Treize was alone for the hour, wonder-noble wandered the hallways by himself, the good Lady Po absorbed herself in her own thoughts on the west facing balcony. Milliardo was unaccounted for, but given Duo's strict observation of the man, it was most likely he was gathering the intelligence he had requested about the war and the threats to the king's life from his own personal guard. Duo could feel a faint smile creep it sway onto his face. The man was so tricky sometimes, it was almost admirable. It was just too bad he forgot to look under his nose when he could tell something was stinkin'. He had missed the conversation in the deep room, no doubt something was done to ensure it didn't echo in that cave, but he hadn't missed his golden opportunity. When he had finally waited as long as he felt appropriate, Duo began to pad down the hallway after his prey. If anyone was unknowingly privy to information about the King, it was the mouse that had just weathered the cat's paws.  
  
______________  
  
TReize stared out of the window for a long quiet time.   
  
"The sun is beautiful at this time of day in this room. You should come, Milliardo, and look out for once."  
  
The noble finally stepped from the deep shadows near the walls of the room and performed a short bow, "I am always looking out, your Majesty."  
  
"I know, Milliardo. I know very well."  
  
The two waited in a momentary communal thought. Finally Milliardo bowed again,   
  
"Thank you, for asking about her, Treize."  
  
"It was nothing, I was curious myself. And if there anythign else, I can do for a friend..."  
  
"We are even."  
  
Treize's brow furrowed as he watched the outside world bathed in ethereal white light.  
  
"Far from it, and you know it."  
  
"We are always friends, Treize, before we are anything else. A debt can't exist between friends."  
  
"We are not always friends," Treize smiled at him, an old familiar look in his blue eyes that few other than Milliardo would have recognized, "And we won't always be, Zechs Merquise."  
  
Milliardo flinched, "That name is retired, gone from me..."  
  
"..For now. I will see him again, as will your general. Go, or your men will believe you've fallen behind schedule for once in your life."  
  
Milliardo paused, before finally bowing and drifted out through the shadows again.  
  
Treize was alone.  
  
But he was never alone...  
  
...when he had thoughts of his beloved.  
  
"Lady..."  
  
_____________________******************  
  
AN:Whee! What a strange part! What was that I spotted? Could it be? Coherance?! *gasp* Yay! Thanks for the positive reviews guys! Thank you Chibi Tsuki! I like any review, no worries if it's late! I'm glad you liked the sword bit too...I didn't know what was going to happen with that. I really hope you all like this chapter...and...uh...don't bother lookng up what it was they quoted becuase I made it up. It would have been absolutely spiffing had I found something appropriate to quote off of, but hell, I did my best. Keep the reviews coming and if you have anything to say, go for it! I'll try to keep the updates coming a little quicker. Thank everyone!  
  
Until next time, spirits, same bat channel, withing three to four months of the same bat time!  
  
Kitten  
(Ps: yeah, I'm lame. I enjoy it *grin*) 


	17. Chapter 17

Crash and Bang.  
  
Noin struggled forward, pushing her way over a jagged broken wagon, and called to her men,   
  
"Forward! Again! Again!"   
  
She turned back to the battle before her, feeling sluggish, and saw the slow seep of a charging mercenary's sword striking for her.   
That's what her old tutor had told her battle was.   
  
Crash and Bang.  
Scrambling back, she put a shoulder to the broken wagon and threw it on its side for a makeshift shield. She crouched into the rotten mud and heard the thunk of the sword biting into the hard wood of the wagon. She scrambled up and around, throwing herself into his stomach before he could pull the blade from the greedy wagon wood. His face showed surprise as he hit the ground, but it didn't matter, as the next second she threw her whole weight into pushing her sword through his gut until it bit the mud beneath him. She stumbled forward, bringing the blade out without a second thought.   
It had begun to rain on the battlefield, making the miserable more miserable yet. The only happy sight was the dying of the flames that gutted the homes of Calais, and even that sight made one sick to heart. Noin had felt the break in the fight not an hour ago, when suddenly pushing forward was not just a desire but a order that could be given and followed through.   
  
"On!" She cried, but her voice broke and wavered.   
  
He sword tip dragged in the mud. She was tired. The men rallied themselves, but the fighting was pocketed across the grey fields. She could see her men gathered in clumps, hacking away at the bits of the rebel army that were left in Calais. She wiped her face with her tired forearm, but only felt gritty ash stick to her face. The rain had created a dark wind filled with choking clumps of ash that soon stuck to faces and weapons and armor. It was hardly a time to recognize a nobleman's standard when one had to stare into the face of his enemy before he was certain he had not killed a friend. In fact, she had seen that most of her men had gone into a frenzy so they would not have to look into the faces of dead men anymore.   
  
The rain beat down hard on her, but not hard enough to clear the ash and blood from her face.   
  
"Forward." She cried, and the weary clumps of men marched ever on.   
  
She propped her sword into the thick mud and watched as the battlefield cleared. A dark shadow pulled itself to stand beside her, "General."   
  
A young man, one of her prized Lieutenants, and he straightened and pulled himself into a somber salute. She watched him a moment in quiet admiration, and wondered what god made men generals and soldiers. She stood slowly and saluted him in return,   
  
"Ease."   
  
He let his arm fall, and it seemed as if his uniform had suddenly lost the man inside it. Dead on his feet, he just managed to stand beside her, sword at ready. All her men were exhausted thanks to this god-bedamned rebel and her idiotic ideas. A peaceful township had been burned to dust. She had sent hundreds of young men to their deaths on this stupid, bloody battlefield. She pulled her sword from the ground and began to trudge ever forward, with him after her. Her anger seethed, and she hoped with a passion that just one more enemy would cross her sights before she declared this battle over.  
  
_  
She dragged herself to the township, and as one lieutenant flocked to her, so came the straggling lonely fighters of her army after him, until a small force had built behind her. She now hacked her way through the bunches of flesh and meat that guarded the entrance to Calais from the field they had fought over. She growled with every hit, throwing aside each man she hacked away to be trampled and finished by her soldiers.   
  
The haggard cries of her men were lukewarm remnants of and anger that had barely burned longer than the fires that sputtered in children's beds in the town. Never fight stupid, her teachers had told her over the years, even if you are tired, you must use your sword skills, dodge and attack; be tactical. She grimaced to herself and banged her sword into someone's rusting armor. Well, she could tell them now where to shove their advice. She trust him to the side and stabbed into the armpit opening of his armor. She grimaced a bit and swung her sword in a lazy semi-circle in front of her.   
  
Like Yuy.   
  
Be tactical.   
  
She could only pray that little boy didn't get into an real battle. That was what she and her boys were for.   
  
"Rally! Rally! Tear them apart!"   
  
She cried and gave a banshee whoop, charging into the next line of enemies that blocked her way. Her men cried after her, and fear was put into their enemies again. She barreled into the first man's armor and shoved, jostling and elbowing until her sword arm was free and then hacking again and again. She slipped and hit her knee, gasping in pain, but kneeling put her into position to thrust her sword under the plating of the armor of the man in front of her, and create a gaping hole in his stomach that bled silently back into the armor. She thrust him aside and smiled. The second good sign of the night had come, and she couldn't begrudge it a sore knee. Her feet had slipped on cobblestone.  
  
_  
"Ten hundred men have gone before and ten hunnerd men go yet! I'll die no' yet by blade an' sword, nor with a bandit's collar moored, but with lassies and lovely chord, a-tied up to my bed!"   
  
A rowdy group of soldiers passed through the torch lit street, all swinging their makeshift canteen mugs.  
Noin sat back in her chair, a well deserved bucked of warm water under her feet and a bandaged and bloodied knee. He other, however, worked just fine as a brace for her own tired mug. She sighed as they went into the fifth verse, and shut her eyes, aware that one of her generals approached her.   
"Are you sure it's appropriate for them to sing bawdy drinking songs at a time like this?"   
  
Noin smiled just barely, "More than ever. Would it be kind to shut them up in a burned out hole and tell them to be somber and quiet after we ordered them to run into a field and die?"   
  
The general bowed his head as an excuse to keep from looking at her. He was a rather small man, and young, with pale skin and blue eyes. His hands were fine and she imagined that his coat used to be, though now it was covered in blood and ash, he seemed to have let it go. He had made some attempt at cleaning himself, but his fine blonde hair had clumps of dried blood in it that he had not managed to comb out. He threaded his fingers together, and she wondered how many new blistered he had developed from actually using them for the first time. She sighed to herself. She could play on his ignorance of battle and court appointed position all she wanted, but it would make neither of them feel better.   
  
"Have a seat and pull up a drink, man," she sighed, "let them sing to ease their weary hearts."   
  
He nodded and dragged over a chair they had salvaged for a poorly arranged council meeting in the center square of Calais. Surprisingly, the middle of town had remained most intact, and in addition to the road supplies and ale barrels of the rebels, they had lucked across some intact pieces of furniture. Their pieces were all mismatched, one of her field generals suffered the indignity of peering up at the table from a child's chair, while another perched forlornly on a high stool from a chandler's shop.   
  
She smiled and swung over a mug, managing to stay mindful of the spilling as he took hold of it and thanked her. They watched the torches burn, casting ghostly shadows over the husks of buildings and celebrating soldiers. The dicers diced with each other under the flickering light more hectically than usual. The drinkers swayed from side to side with the swaying, uneasy light. And those that walked passed from shadow to shadow, each appearing as temporary and unsettled as the little patches of darkness that threatened every corner. She took another sip and flexed her knee with much pain.   
  
The general finally spoke, "that injury will take you out of battle, ma'am. It is best left alone."   
  
She shook her head, "It's not as bad as they want to think it is, they're just being protective."   
  
Two soldiers greeted each other in her sight. She imagined that each of them must be cold.   
  
The general made a small sound in his throat, "well, yes, the men do feel an attachment to you. Now more than ever. But I have not seen the doctors quite that concerned about other injuries..."   
  
"They're my men too."   
  
He stopped and nodded, leaning on his knees. She wondered if he'd understand. She watched the two soldiers talk hesitatingly.   
  
"The men that...rallied with you into town. They're all drinking together, they're the ones singing."   
  
She glanced over and saw that the petit nobleman was right. She recognized the grimy faces and drunken shouts and hysterical laughter. She looked back at her quiet soldiers talking in the torchlight. They had moved closer together.   
  
"Yes. That's good, they need to work it out of themselves, and they deserve a congratulations for their bravery."   
  
"What about yours?"   
  
His voice was quiet, but sincere. She took another sip and did not look back,   
  
"I did what I had to do. Those men acted bravely."   
  
The nobleman shifted in his seat, his delicate little face troubled by her answer.   
  
"Surely, though...your own behavior was brave enough..."   
  
The two soldiers now stood close, their conversation still quiet, but much more personal and friendly. They spoke tensely. One of the was wiry and strong, while the other was bigger, but soft. She saw the wiry one tremble, his eyes wide with the remains of delayed battle shock.   
  
"Are you going to yap to me all night about bravery, soldier, or did you come to be useful on the field?"   
  
The nobleman halted mid sentence, affronted, but he bit his courtly tongue. His voice was assured, business like as he spoke, "I came here to be useful, ma'am." S  
  
he nodded and twisted her mug in her hands. The two soldiers...they recounted stories together now, stood in the firelight and comforted each other.   
  
"Then tell me something, soldier..."   
  
She turned from them and a new figure walked into her sight. A young boy, looking over the torchlight and tents and gazing on the ruined houses and stores. His clothes hung nearly off his shoulders, his dark hair was flung into his eyes, and his mouth hung slightly open as he wandered slowly through the camp, as out of place as a puppy among wolves.   
  
"Ma'am?"   
  
Noin's hands twisted the mug, "Tell me where the rebel general's tent was."  
  
_  
Twisted, ransacked wreckage was all that was left of the enemy tents. Hatred, want, or greed had led her men to destroy the camp in their search for some comfort. All six of her field generals tore through the remains, looking frantically through the odds and ends of the former campsite as she barked orders at them. Her petite general stood at her side, protesting,   
  
"We looked, the men say they saw no distinctive tent, that they saw nothing out of the ordinary when they came here..."   
  
"Argh!" She growled, "well keep looking until you find it, soldier!"   
  
He frowned but went to direct the search among the debris. She wanted to howl and scream and kick something, but howling and screaming would bring the doctors and kicking something with her bad knee would give them a reason to be there. She stood stoically, relying heavily on her left leg for support because of the now constant ache and splintering shocks of pain. She knew the General had been there, she had seen the jackal's face, laughing at her from the front lines, but she could find no trace of her in the territory she had taken.   
  
"Lady Noin! Lady Noin! I've found a pot!"   
  
An excited general enthusiastically held up a pot, standing so quickly the he swayed and went cross-eyed from the rush of blood to his head. She forgave him the slip in protocol of not calling her general, but his stupidity seemed to make her knee ache more. She grimaced and shut her eyes,   
  
"Is it a -special- pot, soldier!?"   
  
The petit general walked over to man and slapped the back of his head,   
  
"That could be from anywhere, soldier. They could have swiped it from the town for all we know. Now get back down there, look for some real proof and stop bothering her with stupid ideas."   
  
The general whimpered and dropped his precious pot quickly as the petit general went back to yelling at the assembly. Noin couldn't help but smile through all the headache of it. It seemed as if he was learning how to be a leader in the army. She monitored the search quietly for a moment, unwilling to give in to her weakness and sit down. Where could the general have gotten to? They had checked the dead, and found no blonde women among them, and they had checked the prisoners, what few of them there were, and found no information. IT seemed that all her soldiers assumed that any woman's voice on the battlefield had been their hired general's and had not bothered to check. The few of them that had any idea what she looked like or sounded like had held her in superstitious awe, and spoke of her only in vague terms of rumor that seemed to place her as a shape-shifting jackal-woman with a demon for a lover and trained snakes to do her bidding.   
  
It seemed to be impossible that she had left the battle safely, but It was beginning to feel like she had not been there at all. Noin rubbed her temples. It was just impossible that she had escaped the field. But Noin could find no answers. She heard a soft rustle beside her and looked to see the orphan boy wading through the junk to stand next to her. He looked around curiously, dark eyes wide and observing and unafraid. She looked at him, but he only surveyed the surroundings,   
  
"You know, this is pretty weird, that she's disappeared and all."   
  
Noin's immediate thought was of biting him viciously in irritation. He glanced at her,   
  
"But what about the sword? You know, I hadn't thought of that, but why not. The guy just didn't seem like an ordinary soldier."   
  
The sword? Noin's eyes went wide and she turned back to the wreckage her generals were confusing on the ground.   
  
"What will happen, will happen without you..."   
  
The world came together in her head, and she cursed the sign that had been given to her.   
  
"Stop looking you morons! They're not here,"   
  
She barked, turning and stumbling , putting too much sudden pressure on her knees. She stood, shoving off the unoffered help of the orphan boy and cursed everything she could curse as loudly as she could,   
  
"They're gone and we've been had!"   
  
"Ma'am?"   
  
"General!"   
  
"Lady?"   
  
She growled at the orphan lad who followed beside her as she stormed towards her conference table,   
  
"We've been left behind. And I've a nasty feeling that we've missed our only opportunity."  
  
*************  
Somewhere in the dark, she imagined, they traveled. Absolute black flowed around them, and image of it pleased her. Her eyes were still a little to wide, her heart a little fast from the battle hunger that had overtake her, but now, it was only she and her lover. There was only candlelight between them now.   
  
"Lover," she purred, content with the irony of using that word, "where is your other sword?"   
  
His dark eyes rose and he slowly surveyed the area around them. He looked back to her with the candlelight glittering in his eyes and lifted his shoulders in languid response. She made a small noise and he went back to whatever it was that occupied his strange and quiet, passionate mind. If it didn't concern him, it really didn't concern her, but something made her uneasy. She could live with a lover she did not trust, but a soldier, she needed to watch. These were dangerous times. And things were going too well to have them ruined.  
  
_*_*_*_*_*__*_*_*_*_*_**  
Er..  
  
*comes out of hiding*  
  
Hello.  
  
*cowers away from stones flung at her*  
I'm so sorry for the long wait. erm, I realize it's been a long time since the last update, but I hope you guys didn't give up on me. *smiles and taps forehead* I remember that it takes -updates- to get -reviews- *winks* it's all a system I'm coming to understand. Anyway, I promise there will be anew part soon, becuase I need to compliment this with some Heero/Duo stuff. Anyway, thanks to you guys who stuck with me, and I hope you like this new chapter, I put some hard work into it for you *smiles*  
  
Don't hate me yet, spirits,  
  
Kitten 


	18. Chapter 18

"Children."   
  
Treize set down the paper, received just today from a messenger from the other side of the kingdom. He gracefully massaged his eyes with his other hand, "Children in mass progression away from their homes."   
  
Standing solidly in the corner was Milliardo, his calm demeanor persistent to the point of laughter, but no one laughed. Only himself and Treize stood in the red-carpeted room, the bright windows dimmed by a fading sun, and neither found the moment conducive to joviality.   
  
"Do you know what this means, Milliardo?"   
  
The white haired noble glanced down at the message, wondering how to phrase his response just right for the moment. As he finished his thought he turned to face Treize just in time to see the king turn his back , one hand over his mouth delicately, staring into the languishing light.   
  
"It means that the war is progressing at least to the Yuy duchy, if not further by now. It is a waste of time to go that direction, though. The most well protected track of the kingdom, it will not further the cause."   
  
He paused and glanced behind him, finding his plush armchair and setting himself down. "I fear that our intelligence is more reliable than I'd wish to think."   
  
Milliardo stepped forward to stand by his side, his voice icy calm, "The greatest losses in the last war were of this generation of children. The generals sent their young recruits into battle in order to save the nobility."   
  
Treize nodded, closing his eyes slowly, "Indeed, which makes it far too likely that my killer will be among the children."   
  
There was a pause between them.   
  
"The Yuy boy?"   
  
Treize shook his head, "He is here for my protection. The Yuy family has always been known for beyond fervent loyalty."   
  
Milliardo nodded, but doubt remained uneasy in his chest. This Yuy was different, Treize was not aware of the change that had overtaken his father's greatest general, Odin Yuy, in his last years. He could not argue though, he had seen for himself; the younger Yuy would be just as useful as his father had been.   
  
"What of the other one?"   
  
Milliardo worked hard to keep the faint twinges of disgust out of his voice. Treize's cool blue eyes turned up to him, his tone slightly mocking, "You of all people should understand why he is here, Milliardo."  
  
***  
  
Tired from a day of walking, and consequently missed meals, Heero finally found himself back in his room, seated in the chair that faced the secret hallway. He had shut the door securely, of course, before taking a seat, and affixed a string from his jacket (Lady Po would be angry, but it was for safety's sake) to the door so that it might tumble a set of appropriated silverware (Lady Po would be angry yet again, but she would come to understand, or so he hoped).   
  
Outside he had caught a glimpse of an orange sky, and wondered briefly if it was true that sun set late this far in the west. Did it mean that such an unpunctual sun would rise late as well? At this pont he rather wished it would, to give him more secreted moments with his terrible addiction...fantastic written myths and poetry.   
  
For a few tired moments he sat with his eyes closed, then he cast a sidelong glance towards the place under his bed he had secreted the latest set of sinful rhyme. Just as he thought of getting up to get it, he heard the tell-tale slip of sliver against silver, and froze as the mirrored door began to swing open.  
  
******  
  
No thanks to the efforts of the raven-haired kitchen maid, Duo had managed to secure some dinner, and a few more items for the road, which were now tucked into his belt pack. Though he had no trouble keeping track of where he had been in the castle, his efforts to find the young nobleman had been unexpectedly thwarted.   
  
He couldn't just find the bastard.   
  
Searched the castle back and forth, found a few more hidey-holes and weird rooms, but hadn't run into even a scrap of messy brown hair. Now wasn't that unfriendly? They had been as close as shadows before his detour to the kitchen; it was rather disturbing to suddenly have lost him.  
  
He finally had to give up the castle proper, as much as he didn't relish the thought, and turn to the secret passage ways. It was the only way he could remember how to get to the nobleman's room, and harrowing as it was, he had to take the chance.   
  
As he finally faced the door he knew led out into the room, his nerves were so wracked by paranoia of being cornered by the king and the cold, dank, and dark that it was all he could do not to charge into the light. He tentatively slipped the door open and looked out.   
  
His heart skipped a beat as he saw the nobleman, eyes closed, leaning languidly in his chair across from the door. Duo restrained a small smirk. The poor guy was probably too paranoid to sleep where he couldn't see the door. Rightfully so, of course, Duo thought. If he had seen himself sneaking around the castle, then he would've probably booby trapped everything he could get his hands on.   
  
Ah, well, it just wasn't this noble's lucky day, is all. There were worse people to run into unexpectedly, though, he thought and shuddered, Treize coming to mind with frightening clarity. With that he began to push the door open, all to happy to get out of the damp hallways. It was then he noticed that the noble's eyes had opened, but it was already too late. Duo heard the crash of metal hitting the floor and stared at a pile of silverware bouncing at his feet. He looked over at the nobleman, eyes wide. Deep violet met deep blue.   
  
"Oh, hell.." 


	19. Chapter 19

It was dark, this roof above him, dark but not impenetrable. If he stared long and hard enough at the deepest cracks he could see into them, see light. And he had stared long and hard at this roof above him, until most of the darkness was gone away.  
  
"Friend..." the door creaked open suddenly, shedding bright candlelight into the room. He stared, suddenly caught in brilliance, and heard the rustle of cloth and echoing steps as the floor was crossed hurriedly. He squinted his eyes at the approaching flame, but couldn't turn away. Cold hands touched his cheeks and turned his face upward. He opened his eyes wide as the brilliance slowly faded out of them.  
  
"What were you doing, staring so long into the darkness. You'll hurt your eyes."   
  
"It's only what you've done," he croaked, his throat irritated at the unexpected use.  
  
"You haven't been drinking your water, and you've let the candle go out. You must not do such things."   
  
Feeling suddenly tired, he nodded, letting the hands guide him back to his pillows. It was true he should drink, and should not let the warmth of the candle fade. He looked back up into the ceiling, and it was a writhing mass of shadow. He was disappointed.  
  
"I could almost see it, the white roofs."  
  
The boy kneeling beside the bed stopped relighting the vanished flame. He stared at the boy in the bed before him. The candlelight lent him color, though it was still pale and sick, and it shined dully from his pale blond hair. His eyes, though, were alight with it, mild sapphire stuck in white sands. With relief he thought that the boy in front of him had seen the beach once, one thing that was not robbed from him.  
  
He set to lighting the second candle again, "You saw the roofs?"  
  
The boy in bed nodded slowly, staring up at the dark ceiling. "I almost saw them. That wasn't what I saw first."  
  
"What did you see?" The candle lit and flared a moment. He brought up the pitched and topped off the glass on the bedside table.  
  
"The gardens," the pale boy smiled impishly. "If Calais has fallen, then the battles really have been diversions. Do you think that the numbered woman will notice?"  
  
The other boy nodded, "Yes. She is an intelligent general. She'll have noticed and already acted by now."   
  
"That means that the battle will move straight to the capitol."  
  
He nodded again, "Yes. Drink some water."  
  
He helped the pale boy sit up and arranged his pillows behind him. He lifted the cup to his lips, but the boy took it with his own hands and drank down half slowly. He smiled down as he handed it back, "She is an excellent general, and an even better woman."  
  
He looked up into those blue eyes a moment, realizing that he was being teased. He set down the glass and started to refill it.  
  
The blue eyed boy merely smiled, the water having refreshed him some.  
  
The green eyed boy watched the smile add color to his deathly pale face. His eyes did not move, nor did his face stir a fraction from where it was, and had always been. The pale boy reached for more water, and he moved the pitched back, ready to refill the glass again.  
  
"You imagine the gardens back home," the pale one said, holding the glass before his face like a prop for hiding.   
  
"You saw what I thought?"  
  
"No," he grinned, "It's written all over your face. It's easy to tell." With that he laughed, then drew the glass up to drink so that water might hold the coughing at bay.  
  
"You saw something other in your darkness, didn't you?" The green eyed boy asked, keeping his voice innocent.  
  
The pale boy set the glass down on the table again and watched him refill it. "I did. It reminded me of the gardens and disturbed me away from what I was seeing."  
  
"What was it?"  
  
"Like the ocean at dawn, like the one we saw with the great storm looming over the horizon." He smiled mischievously, "I know something about the two we've been following now."  
  
The green eyed boy looked up quickly, smooth with his expression as ever.  
  
"The choice belongs to them now, a toss-up to see who will chose which path. One of them will find his true opponent, while the other will recognize his role in the whole scheme."  
  
The green eyed boy raise one quizzical eyebrow.  
  
The pale one chuckled, "I'm being too direct?"  
  
Slowly the quizzical look settled back into place.  
  
"How sardonic of you." He smiled and reached for his glass, looking back upwards towards the darkness, "For all you separated yourself from the jester from home, it's still there."  
  
I can tell you of the gardens. In fact, I would like to hear a story tonight. Let's sit back, and listen, let our memories make the colors bright again.  
  
*********  
  
AN:Well, late as usual, but here I am. I am determined to finish, despite the years this story has spanned. All it takes is getting off my lazy butt. And perhaps thinking of a new title. As much as I like this one, perhaps one relating to the story would be good for it, no? Any takers? Thanks for coming back...or coming at all.  
  
-Kitten 


End file.
